


i'm losing me and i'm losing you

by venomedveins



Series: Fire Starter [13]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alluding to Non-Con (Not Graphic), Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Nasir, Christmas, Confessions, Fights, Fire Fighters, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Smut, Top Agron, Violence, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wracked with guilt, Nasir and Agron find a new way to cope, while others begin to piece together their secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm losing me and i'm losing you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always, to crazzzedope for working extra hard to make this chapter perfect. (This thing is 70 pages!)
> 
> Also, thank you to all who are still reading. <3

Snow billows outside of the greasy bar windows, filling the New York streets and blowing bursts of frigid air throughout the bar every time someone opens the door. It's mostly deserted in here, a few patrons along the bar and one booth in the back filled with an old couple. Agron leans further into his own booth, hooking his heel on the seat across from him. Hidden in the dark, it's so much easier to pretend.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Agron's thumb hesitates over the lock screen before typing in his pin, pulling up his messages. He scrolls down through for a moment, clicking on Nasir, a dumb heart emoji put in next to his name. He didn't put it there, Nasir did, and Agron is a little loath to admit he can't figure out how to change it. Sighing, Agron's eyes scan the text messages, words blending together.

  
 _I have bruises in places I didn't even realize you put your mouth. So hot, babe._  
 _Like, I can't even sit without feeling an ache somewhere._

_Just wanted to tell you that 1. we should have never gotten out of bed today  
and 2. i will be waiting with beer and take out when you get off work. 3. bad day, sex, plz_

_Can't wait to see you tonight. Miss you so bad xoxo  
_

There is a video attached at one point, sent from Agron to Nasir. It's of them in bed, curled up together in the early Saturday morning light. Nasir's hair is curly and a mess, cascading along Agron's arm as they lay against one another, his head on Agron's shoulder. Both of them are naked, though it's mostly hidden by the sheets. Their conversation is all murmurs, Agron commentating on how gorgeous Nasir looks, all sleepy and subdued, and Nasir hides his face in Agron's chest, only to have his head raised a moment later for a kiss. The camera stays fairly stationary as their mouths move against one another, Nasir's hand straying from Agron's jaw to his hair, stroking it as he presses closer, tongues clearly meeting in the middle. The video ends when Nasir pulls back with a giggle, hiding his blushing face in the crook of Agron's arm.

It seems that these days the only memories he can keep of Nasir are the happy ones. Agron doesn't want to linger on the bad ones, preferring to remember the sound of Nasir's laughter, the delight he gets out of little things like a perfect cup of coffee or the play of sunlight through a window. Always artistically insightful, Nasir's whole world is beauty. He can make a messy bed look perfect and intact as long as he's there among the sheets. Agron likes to think about that, dwell on it, instead of the dark look in Nasir's eyes when they broke up.

Putting his phone down on the table, Agron presses his fingertips to his burning eyes. He can feel tears prickle behind, a few stray ones leaking out to cling to his eyelashes. It's so fucking difficult, to be completely consumed by someone and have them just end it all. Everything pointing to both of them being in love and having Nasir push him away, pretend that everything was just fun and games to him. Was he just playing when he spent nights crying in Agron's arms after nightmares? Was it all pretend – the looks, the touches, the easy way Nasir just climbed over Agron's walls and took his heart?

A bitter part of Agron wonders if Nasir is even a little broken up about this. If he even has any idea what he's done. Even after the sex, Agron thought he saw a glimmer of remorse, a tiny part of Nasir that wanted Agron to stay. The words burning on Nasir's lips, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Maybe Agron only sees what he wants to see.

“Hey there,” the waiter, a thin guy with a mess of curly brown hair and big hazel eyes takes Agron's empty beer bottle, replacing it with another one.

“Thanks,” Agron nods, voice gravel as he places his hands firmly on the table.

“You alright?” the waiter asks, his nametag reads Nero.

“Yeah, just getting a cold,” Agron shrugs it off, frustrated that he's letting himself get worked up like this.

“Ah,” Nero nods his head, clearly seeing through the lie.

“Yeah, damn weather,” Agron shifts his gaze over to the boy, noticing his cupid bow mouth and thin arms. He can't be a day over twenty-one at most, pretty little face with the hint of stubble on his jaw.

Nero picks up on it instantly, glancing around, “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“You tell me.” The words feel foreign in his mouth, and Agron has to repress his cringe. He hates flirting like this, trying to impress. Flirting with Nasir is so fucking natural, a play on each other's weaknesses. It's more of a game than a means to an end.

“I'm set to clear out the bathroom and clean it in five minutes,” Nero smirks, motioning towards the back of the bar, “If you're up for it.”

“Sure,” Agron lifts his beer, pulling from it. He doesn't even have the strength to smirk, but it still works.

Nero's cheeks stain a pretty pink and he turns, quickly moving towards the bathroom with a backwards glance. Agron gives him another minute, chugging part of his beer and flipping his phone back on. He scrolls through his pictures until he finds the one of Nasir bent over the kitchen counter, knuckles white and legs spread. There is come dripping down Nasir's thighs, sweat skin glistening in the bright lights, and Nasir's dark eyes are just barely visible over his shoulder.

Agron feels his cock finally coming to life, and he keeps the picture up as he moves towards the bathroom. He wonders if Nero will notice if he stares at his phone the whole time they do this.

When he gets into the bathroom, Nero is standing at the sink, still blushing and biting his bottom lip. He's so eager and Agron has to keep telling himself that he should want this, that this is part of the rebounding after break ups. He's supposed to be turned on, ready and willing. It's not like Nero isn't cute, all tugging on the hem of his shirt and staring up at Agron with big eyes and short, dark eyelashes.

Agron catches himself in the mirror for just a moment as he steps further into the bathroom. Red rings surround his eyes, making the green seem even brighter in the dull florescent lights. He hasn't bothered to shave in a while, coppery brown beard having fully grown in. Agron knows he looks like shit, unlike himself, but he pushes himself forward anyways, hands coming up to cup Nero's face.

It's strange, Agron has to admit, to spend so much time learning how to kiss one person only to kiss someone new. Nero's mouth is a small, little furnace, tongue presses ferociously against Agron's, trying to dominate the kiss. He doesn't back down either, going up on his toes to try and claim more of Agron for himself. Agron tries to put an end to it with a sharp nip to the tip of Nero's tongue, but he still continues, turning the slick slide of their lips to a jolted pattern. It's not the best kiss Agron's ever had, by far, but it's wet and good for what it's worth. He still has no problem though pulling back and pressing a firm hand to Nero's shoulder.

Agron rests his shoulders on the wall as Nero works on getting his pants open. He knows he's half hard, closing his eyes, but he's going to need more if he wants to get through this. He can still remember Nasir doing the same thing to him, dark eyes gleaming up at him and mouth a perfect circle. Fuck if Nasir didn't know exactly how to touch him, tease Agron into wanting more every fucking time. This isn't Nasir and though Agron tries to keep telling himself that, but when he tangles his fingers in Nero's hair, he sees black waves instead of brown curls.

“Fuck, you're huge,” Nero murmurs, tugging Agron's jeans down to mid-thigh. Agron hums quietly, not figuring he has anything really to say.

Wrapping his lips around the head of Agron's cock, Nero begins to suckle quickly, hands working on the shaft. He's making a valiant attempt to bring Agron to full hardness, cupping his balls, bobbing his head. Agron would feel bad if he wasn't adamantly trying to keep his mind focused on Nero and not the creeping images of Nasir trying to slip back behind his eyelids.

Nero is getting frustrated every minute as he pulls out all his tricks and yet Agron's cock barely twitches with interest. His body should be reacting, chemically stimulated by sinking into Nero's tight throat, but it's not, and Agron tries so fucking hard to will himself into hardness, only having it fail when his mind wanders to what Nasir is doing right now.

It goes on like this for another five minutes before it's too much.

“Fuck. Stop,” Agron pulls his hips back, hooking his thumbs in his jeans and pulling them up roughly when Nero releases his cock, “I can't do this.”

“What?” Nero blinks up at him, clearly offended.

“I'm sorry. I can't-” Agron buckles his belt blindly, stepping out and around Nero, backing towards the door, “There is someone else and I shouldn't even be here.”

“What do you mean you can't?” Nero turns on his knees, eyes slipping into a glare.

“Nasir, I just-” Agron chokes on the words, back hitting the swinging door, “I'm sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Nero snarks, stumbling to his feet but Agron doesn't stay to hear his next retort.

He sprints through the bar, grabbing his jacket and leaving a fifty on the table. It's over four times the amount of two beers, but he feels guilty and he doesn't think he can stay another minute in this place.

Walking briskly to his car, Agron twists his fist against his left eye, cursing under his breath. He knows that he's not going to last like this. It's too abrupt, too quick of a cut off. One minute they were – Agron doesn't even know and then it was over. But it's not really over, if it were then they wouldn't have fucked not even a week ago.

And maybe that's the tragedy and the saving grace to Agron. He can't have Nasir's heart, his love. Nasir doesn't want him to have it, can't return Agron's unwavering devotion, but Nasir clearly still wants his body. And though it's not the full deal, not all of what Agron truly wants, it's something. To be able to hold Nasir, touch him, that can be enough for Agron. He can make it enough.

It's better to have some part of Nasir's life, then have none of it at all.

 

\- - -

 

Nasir rubs halfheartedly at his eye, pressing his finger harder against the brew button. The coffee maker sputters encouragingly, tiny red light blinking and blinking before Nasir finally hears the click. Dark brown liquid begins to drip slowly but steadily into the pot, and Nasir sighs, resting his forehead on the counter.

It's cold enough in the apartment that Nasir can see his breath ghosting out along the cabinet. The radiator has been broken for days, giving absolutely no heat. It's torture in the Northeast winter. Both Pietros and Nasir have called their landlord almost everyday, but he has numerous excuses. First it was Hanukkah, then he couldn't get a hold of anyone, and now two days before Christmas, Nasir is pretty sure they're going to live in the cold until after New Years.

They had both purchased tiny portable space heaters, but the cracks around the windows let most of the air out. Nasir couldn't help feeling bitter every time he went to bed. If Agron was here, Nasir wouldn't have to shiver and pile on every blanket in the house. He could go back to sleeping in nothing and curling up against the furnace of Agron's chest and huge back. Or, better yet, Nasir could just hide out at Agron's place like Pietros is doing to Barca. Instead though, Nasir comes home and freezes, trying desperately not to think of Agron's skin on his own.

Pulling a mug from the cabinet over the sink, Nasir grimaces as he sees flakes of glitter clinging to his arm. He had showered when he got home from Ludus, but they used the good spray glitter there, the type that doesn't come off when you rub your body along the floor. It's a cascade of silver and gold when he scrubs at his arm, only managing to cover the dirty dishes in the sink in color and embed it under his fingernails.

The first pull of coffee is like a cascade of warmth filling Nasir's chest, thawing him out, bringing feeling back to his fingers and arms. He can finally feel his toes, wiggling them within his knee high socks. He's interrupted when he pushes the mug back up for a second drink by heavy knocking on the front door. It's barely ten in the morning, and since Pietros has been staying at Barca's for the past week, Nasir can only imagine the landlord finally got a repairman to come out.

When Nasir pulls the door open, all sense of greeting dies on his tongue. Agron's large hand is balanced against the door frame, supporting the man as he leans against it, slowly raising his head with a crooked grin. The cut of his body is hidden under the thick lining of his coat, but he looms in the doorway in a way that fills the space completely.

“Hey. What are you doing here?” Nasir stammers out, fingers finding the hem of his over sized sweater. It's thick and gray yarn, big enough to hang halfway to his thighs and hang off one shoulder.

“Pietros has been complaining to Barca about you guys having no heat. I thought I would come over and take a look.”

Agron's eyes slowly roam over Nasir's skin, noting the dark kiss bruises half hidden by his collar, the strip of soft brown skin between his socks and sweater, the way Nasir's chest rises and falls in quiet, little puffs. Agron's mouth salivating as Nasir's tongue nervously slides along his bottom lip, held captive under Agron's gaze.

“But you're a fire fighter,” Nasir's brown furrows, fingers flexing on the door handle.

“Surprisingly, I know a lot about pipes.” The corner of Agron's mouth raises just a little, dimple creasing even more on his cheek as he easily flirts. He's so cocky, looming like some great king in Nasir's dim hallway, and Nasir can't resist him – doesn't want to resist it anymore.

They haven't talked or seen each other since they fucked a week ago. Nasir likes to call it that in his head, because that's all it was. It's a sick little seed that grows in the pit of Nasir's stomach – how addicting it is to have Agron on top of him like that but knowing every caress is a lie. He's lost Agron's love, his trust, his desire. Yet, Nasir will do anything to have Agron there, to have him in some way. Even if it kills him a little each time.

“You going to let me in or continue to stare at me?” Agron asks, lifting his hand to show Nasir the red toolbox he's carrying. He can see Nasir's mind whirling, debating on whether or not he should, before finally stepping back into the apartment.

“We've called the landlord a bunch of times but he's ignoring us. It's been like this since right after Thanksgiving.” Nasir walks through the entry way and into the living room, feeling Agron's eyes on his ass the whole way. He'd be lying if he said he didn't play into it, arching his back just a little when he leans over to grab his coffee mug from the side table.

“Ignoring you?” Agron glances around the apartment as he walks. It's not messy anymore, not like the last time he was here, but there is still a sense of wrongness – like there is something missing. He lets his gaze settle on Nasir instead of trying to figure out what it is, finding a familiarity there. He knows Nasir's skin, his bones, his little triggers. That will never change. Nasir will always be Nasir, whether he's with Agron or not.

“Who would ever want to ignore you?” Agron smirks, quickly unzipping his coat and tossing it over the back of a nearby chair. The cool air makes goosebumps raise on his arms, skin prickling under his thin green t-shirt.

“You'd be surprised,” Nasir rolls his eyes, moving to perch on the back of the couch. It raises his sweater up higher, and Agron gets just a peek of black lace before Nasir is covering himself back up.

“I can only imagine people being enraptured with you,” Agron moves closer, coming to stand almost between Nasir's legs. He trails the tips of his fingers slowly over the edge of Nasir's sock, tracing the soft skin on his thigh with barely there caresses. It tickles, and Nasir bites his bottom lip to keep from giggling, feeling goosebumps break out over his legs.

“I imagine,” Agron murmurs, voice slipping deeper, “you know exactly the effect you have on other men.”

He walks his fingers along Nasir's thigh, pausing for just a moment when he gets to the soft inside, smoothing his palm over the flesh. Nasir is cool to the touch, almost cold, but the gap between his thighs is warm the further Agron slides his hand. He's just reached the soft lace lining Nasir's boxer briefs when Nasir suddenly closes his legs.

“Radiator is over there.” Nasir points under the window, hiding his grin behind the rim of his mug. His cheeks are a rosy pink, sliding down his neck to his chest.

“Alright,” Agron retracts his hand with a grin, “Work first than play. Though, you might be warmer if you put on pants.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” Nasir asks, spreading his legs again once Agron is distracted by the radiator. He's half hard already, hiding it behind the thick fabric of his sweater.

“Not at all.” Agron shrugs while he pulls out a wrench, slowly twisting the valve on the top.

Nasir watches him for a few minutes, large arms bulging and flexing as he works. He's so big now, meaty in a way, full and huge. Nasir wants to bite into those arms, taste the muscles, use it as an anchor when Agron's deep inside him. Nasir keeps it all to himself though, bites back the words and hides them in his mouth. He'll wait.

“Why aren't you at work today?” Agron asks conversationally.

“Had a late night,” Nasir murmurs, rubbing a hand along his cheek.

“You're covered in glitter.” Agron goes for nonchalance, just stating a fact, but it's his narrow eyed glance over his shoulder that hints at a different meaning. Nasir doesn't catch it though, swinging his feet a little while staring in his coffee cup. He knows he's going to regret his next words, but there have been so many lies between the two of them, he doesn't feel like lying about this too.

“I took some time off from tattooing. Couldn't get inspired. I'm uh,” Nasir kicks a little harder at the couch, “I've taken up a few shifts at Ludus. It's good cash and I-”

“You're fucking stripping again?”

Agron suddenly twists too hard, cracking the cap completely off under his wrench. A surge of water and steam shoot from the now open pipe, hitting Agron directly in the chest and filling the air with the smell of wet metal. Swearing loudly, he quickly twists it the opposite way, disconnecting the water and stopping it, but not before the whole front of shirt is soaked.

“Shit, are you okay?” Nasir hops off the couch, abandoning his coffee on the side table again.

“Yeah, fuck,” Agron shakes his head, wiping a hand down his chin and through his beard. “What do you mean you're stripping again?”

“I hardly think it's – Agron! You're dripping all over my floor.” Nasir hisses, weaving his fingers through his hair.

“Jesus fuck,” Agron rolls his eyes, curling his fingers in the bottom of his shirt and yanking it quickly over his head. It flexes his stomach and chest, both glistening with moisture. Nasir stares, mouth half open as Agron tosses the fabric on the floor. “Better? Now why don't you-”

Suddenly, Agron pauses, swallowing thickly. He shouldn't say what he wants to say. They're broken up. Agron doesn't really have any sort of claim on Nasir, no say. He's not allowed to voice his annoyance, his anger, or even his concern. Nasir doesn't want it and if he did, he wouldn't have broken up with him in the first place.

“What?” Nasir snaps, raising an eyebrow, “Spit it out.”

“You know what, forget it.” Agron turns back to the radiator, reaching back down to twist the cap back on.

Nasir chews on his bottom lip, eyes tracking the deep cut of muscles along Agron's shoulder blades. He feels bad, guilty, for all the things that he's caused Agron and now this, the concern that is so deeply etched in all of Agron's being, and yet Nasir has to act like he doesn't care. That nothing Agron says matters when it does, it does matter.

“Look.” Stepping forward, Nasir lightly places his hand on Agron's shoulder. “I get it, I know how it sounds. I'm being careful though. Nothing past the backroom. No drugs. I'm not fucking any of the customers.”

“Good.”

Agron's nonchalance falls flat, but Nasir still squeezes the tight muscle, trying for reassuring. He needs Agron to believe him. Somehow, what Agron thinks of him matters. He may hate Nasir, but he can't think he's out there going back to how he was before – that Agron had no effect. He matters so much. Nasir still needs Agron to believe in him.

Walking his fingers over Agron's shoulder, Nasir rubs his hand up the back of Agron's neck, tangling his digits in Agron's short hair. He massages at Agron's scalp for a minute, hovering over him. Agron's head is mid-chest on Nasir, and it'd be so easy for Nasir to bend over him, trail teasing kisses up Agron's neck, over his jaw. He allows himself just to press a lingering kiss right behind Agron's ear, sucking on the skin lightly before pulling away.

Agron stays tense for just a few more minutes, yanking on the pipes in front of him, before it suddenly sputters and comes to life. Hot air begins to gust out of the radiator, scent of hot metal and steam filling the immediate space. Both of them recoil, backing up to the couch again, Agron nearly smushing Nasir against the rough fabric.

“Careful,” Nasir presses his hands firmly to Agron's waist, using him as leverage to sit up on the back of the couch again, toes dangling above the ground.

“Sorry,” Agron turns, mouth suddenly pulling into a lazy smirk, “I thought you liked it when I was all pressed up against you.”

“I-” Nasir chokes out, feeling Agron's familiar predatory gaze shifting over him, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No?” Agron asks, thighs spreading Nasir's legs wider as he settles between.

“No, no idea,” Nasir giggles, shaking his head as he leans back. Agron wraps his arms around Nasir's waist to balance him, pressing against him tightly.

“So this just doesn't effect you?” Agron asks, rolling his hips slightly, dragging his hard cock along Nasir's.

“Nuh uh,” Nasir groans, shaking his head slowly, biting his bottom lip.

“I think you're lying,” Agron teases, nipping playfully at the tip of Nasir's nose.

Nasir loves it, adores when Agron is cocky, self-assured of the power he has over Nasir. He can make Nasir's body react with just a change in his breath, words a little more intense, tone clipped. Just like now as Agron presses his smirking mouth to Nasir's shoulder, kissing the skin tenderly. There is a hint of teeth and Nasir's legs come up, gripping Agron's powerful ribs between his thighs.

“ _Agron,_ ” Nasir gasps, feeling sharp little points moving up his neck.

It's on the cusp, the tipping point. If Nasir lets them do this, if they allow each other this pleasure, they're never going to recover. It'll be their secret oasis, a hidden escape in flesh from the pain, the gnawing guilt that eats them both up. Agron can feel it too, pulling back to stare into Nasir's eyes, mouth half open and panting. They have to decide together if they're going to go through with this, turning from boyfriends to lovers to fuck buddies. It's an addiction neither one of them wants to shake. Maybe if they ease off one another, forgoing the cold turkey approach, and just wean off like some drug that they can fuck out of their system, feeling guilty about it later but during the time – the time is theirs.

“Nasir,” Agron murmurs, large hand sliding up Nasir's thigh, over his socks, under his sweater, hooking his fingertips in the lace hidden by gray wool.

“Yeah,” Nasir nods instantly, nails digging into Agron's shoulder blades, “Need you.”

Agron's grin is half feral half crazed as he drags his hand up Nasir's side, guiding his sweater up, up, and then off. Nasir's boy shorts are all black lace, and Agron can clearly see his cock, pressing up and tight against his stomach, flushed red. He's leaking just a little, dampening the fabric. It's enough for Agron to pull back, lowering his head down to lap at the tip with his tongue.

“Fuck!” Nasir cries out, leaning back until his fingers strain against the back rest, arched over the back of the couch. Agron catches his thighs to steady him, keeping him suspended and balanced nearly flat.

Agron keeps sucking Nasir's cock through the fabric, nipping playfully at the lace. From this position, it stretches Nasir out, smooths down his body, letting Agron's fingers wander along his stomach and over his chest. Even with the radiator blowing hot air a few feet from them, Nasir's body breaks out in goosebumps, nipples hard under Agron's rough fingers.

Nasir's cock twitches against his lips, trying desperately to free itself from the soft lace as Agron continues his sucking kisses. He's already so wet, legs flexing around Agron's chest like they didn't just do this a week ago. Nasir isn't used to the gaps of time though, so into the routine of having Agron's cock inside him day and night, always there when Nasir wanted it.

Agron keeps his sucking firm and quick, teasing more and more precome out. It stains the black white, sticking it against his skin and rubbing too rough to be true friction. Still, Agron keeps going, wrapping his mouth around the tip and sucking, hollowing his cheeks to hear Nasir mewl, head tipped back. His hands flex on the back of the couch cushions, and even if he let go, he knows Agron wouldn't let him fall.

“Fuck, fuck, oh shit,” Nasir gasps, stomach trembling, stifling his cry of “Daddy” when he bites his bottom lip. He can't say it – not yet.

His eyes drag down to meet Agron's and he can't look away - too fucking caught up in that molten gaze. It sucks him in, drowns him in the heat and intensity. He doesn't ever want to lose this look, the lecherous little smirk Agron gets when he plans his next move.

Trailing his tongue along the thin waistband of Nasir's boy shorts, he follows the path with his fingers, up between Nasir's thigh, along the sharp crease of his hip to his side. It's a tease for what's to come, as Agron grips the sides in both hands and yanks. The material tries to stay together for just a moment, resisting the pull, but it is nothing compared to Agron's strength. The lace splits with a loud rip, elastic snapping, falling from Nasir's flushed skin in tatters.

“Find the lube,” Agron instructs, mouth moving hotly down Nasir's cock, licking at his balls. He's so fucking pleased with himself, so proud of how easy it is for him to give Nasir pleasure.

With shaking hands, Nasir plunges them between the cushions, feeling around for the lube bottle they stored there months ago. He's praying that Pietros and Barca didn't use it when they had their date night a few nights ago. Nasir had been at Ludus and when he came back, the whole apartment had smelt like sweat and skin.

The task distracts him enough that he doesn't see it coming, moaning loud when feels Agron's tongue drag along his hole, coming back to suck on the puckered skin. It's unexpected, heat pooling deep in his stomach. He's suddenly too close too fast and his head swims, hand reaching up to tangle his fingers in Agron's hair and yanking. Once again, the petname nearly slips from Nasir's lips, a cry and a beg for Agron to keep going. He swallows it though, somehow finding the ability to censor himself.

Agron lifts his head slowly, trailing his slick tongue up and over Nasir's balls and along his cock. He's addicted to the smell of Nasir's skin, cinnamon musk mixed with sweat. It's intoxicating and Agron allows himself to indulge in it. He's still wearing his jeans and his cock strains against the zipper when Nasir sits up, holding the lube in one hand and using the other to wrap around the base of his cock.

“Let me see,” Nasir mumbles, motioning towards Agron's cock.

“You want this?” Agron raises an eyebrow at Nasir as he grips at the heated skin through his jeans. It's a thick line, pressed to the right, stretching across his thigh.

“Yeah,” Nasir bites his bottom lip, nodding.

“Open yourself up for me,” Agron instructs, undoing his belt with one hand and dropping it to the floor.

His eyes never leave Nasir when he pops the cap on the lube, watching Nasir squirt out plenty on his fingertips. He has to slide off the back of the couch to reach himself, leaning back and raising a leg off the floor, shifting his weight to one leg. Agron's jeans and boxers hit the floor as Nasir trails his hand behind, jaw dropping when he presses in his first finger.

Moving back up to Nasir, Agron grips his raised leg, hooking his thigh up and over his own hip before reaching for the other. Nasir flounders a bit, lifted completely off the floor and supporting himself against the back of the couch with one arm. His legs tremble around Agron's waist, tightening like they want to crush Agron between. With Agron's extra weight though, it's not even bone against bone, instead thick flesh against flesh.

The change in position doesn't slow the hand between Nasir's legs though, shoving another finger into himself and scissoring them quickly. He's not going to do a good enough job, he knows it, but Nasir loves the first drag of pleasure pain that Agron's cock causes when it slides inside. It's like a lasting burn, felt so deep inside him that it stays for days – an ache until Agron's cock is back inside him again.

Agron trails his mouth down and over Nasir's chest as he stretches himself, nibbling on a dusty nipple, sucking the skin into sore little peaks before moving onto the other one. They harden for his tongue, darkening from his teeth. Nasir responds to every stimulation with soft, breathy cries, sparks of pleasure traveling across his stomach and chest.

“Put your hands on the back of the couch,” Agron murmurs, pulling Nasir's wrist up to lace their fingers together, stealing the left over lube for his cock.

Nasir does the command with half-lidded eyes, gazing up at Agron's face. He's sweating a little, neck and chest glistening in the light. Nasir wants to trace every inch of Agron with his tongue, lay him out and give him all the pleasure he can, but he can't focus when Agron's cock drags along his hole, a teasing tug when the tip catches.

Agron doesn't have the patience or the means to tease too long. Holding Nasir's hip tightly to keep his back arched and up, he uses the other to guide his cock into Nasir's hole. And fuck. He's like a vice, yielding under Agron's probing only because Nasir presses down and out, relaxing in the best way he can. Agron can only get in an inch at a time, having to press harder and slower if he wants to be buried inside the tight little body before him.

Fingers flexing in the back rest of the couch, Nasir tilts his head back, trusting Agron to keep his body up as his hair spills through the air and over the cushions. He has to lock his elbows after a while, body shaking too much to keep himself still as Agron sinks in and in and in and how fucking huge is Agron's cock that it takes so long for him to bottom out?

Finally, fucking finally, Agron smooths his hand up Nasir's back to support him as his balls smack against Nasir's ass, cock nestled between Nasir's slick inferno. It brings a whole new wave of heat down over Agron, coiling his stomach taut as he holds still, fighting against the urge to pound forward with everything he's got. He has to let Nasir adjust, let him relax even more, or he's going to hurt him beyond what Nasir can take.

Nasir's eyes flutter shut when Agron bottoms out, but they have to open again to take in Agron's face. His jaw is clenched tight, teeth gleaming in a dangerous growl. It's the look that brings Nasir from calm to dizzying awe in moments, the blazing verdant eyes that track along Nasir's face, sweat glistening at his temple. And he's so fucking perfect, so beautiful when he's on the brink, a feral beast that Nasir will never turn away.

“Daddy,” Nasir gasps, mouth wet from biting at his lips, “Fuck me, please.”

And fuck, no one has ever said anything so sweet to Agron.

Fingertips digging into Nasir's hips, Agron pushes him back firmly, letting just the tip of his cock rest inside Nasir's body. He looks up just once to smirk at Nasir, let him see what he's released with his little plea, before Agron drops his head back down to watch his cock slam into Nasir's body. He doesn't want this slow or easy. He wants to fuck Nasir hard enough he feels it forever, always gaping for Agron's cock, remind Nasir that he will never have anyone as good and huge and thick as Agron is.

It's an all encompassing rhythm, not slow or soft, but powerful thrusts of Agron's cock. He can feel Nasir's body clenching down on him as he batters against Nasir's prostate, skirting across the bundle of nerves to slam back against it. Agron knows he's snarling, jaw so tight it aches, as he drags his nails down Nasir's back, feeling the skin split under the sharp points.

Nasir whimpers out breathy little moans at first, but they quickly change to cries and pleas as Agron keeps moving. He's so big, yanking out to the tip and shoving back in, a repetition of pain and pleasure so thick that Nasir chokes on his air every time Agron slams into him. He feels like his body is on fire, not being able to pinpoint when the next shock wave is going to ravage his body, goosebumps burning on his skin.

Pushing in all the way, Agron rotates his hips in quick little circles, grinding his cock firmly against Nasir's prostate. He's so deep, cock thrumming at the tight vice and spreading Nasir wide open, so thick. Agron is surprised he hasn't' ripped Nasir in half with how hard he's pushing into him, knowing that when this is all over, Nasir is going to be covered in dark black purple bruises. He makes sure to twist Nasir's nipple between his fingertips at the same time he moves, smearing pleasure through him and following it by pain.

Nasir's eyes roll in the back of his head as he feels it, sharp jolts twisting his gut. He's so hot, skin slick with sweat and precome. He's so fucking wet and Agron isn't slowing, pulling back out to rebegin his thrusts, forcing high pitched wails from Nasir's throat every time he slams in. His whole body is shaking, legs gripping around Agron's ribs as hard as he can, elbows wanting to give out so much from holding onto the couch.

Agron wouldn't even have noticed if he didn't have to take a step forward. Nasir's grip on the cushions paired with Agron's vigorous thrusts is causing the couch to shudder across the floor, scratching loudly on the wood. It slams into the coffee table with Agron's next shove forward, causing a bowl to fall to the floor, glass and candy scattering on the hardwood. Nasir doesn't even react, just locks his elbows even harder together, legs a bruising grip around Agron's hips.

Over the sound of Nasir's broken cries, Agron can hear someone banging on the wall. The neighbors probably furious over all the racket, yet Agron can only laugh a little darkly, speeding up. He's sure everyone on this floor and the next probably know his name by now, considering how loud Nasir has been screaming it for the past months.

“Oh fuck me,” Nasir gasps, eyes unfocused and mouth open. “Punish me, Daddy. Hurt me. I deserve it.”

“Hey,” Agron reaches out a hand to grip Nasir's jaw, pulling his wide open mouth against Agron's in a kiss. It's more tongue than lips, but Agron doesn't really mind as Nasir's eyes snap to his when he pulls away. “I'm right here. Stay with me, Nasir.”

He knows Nasir is too caught up, in too deep, and Agron is the only one to bring him back from it.

“Right here. Look at me, baby boy,” Agron directs Nasir's head up again, meeting his eyes, giving into the petname he swore to himself he wasn't going to use again. This is Nasir though, and Agron would do anything for him.

It's the way his mouth moves around the words, growling the nickname like a command. There is nothing Nasir can do but reply.

Mouth falling open again, Nasir's eyes grow huge as his body shudders, a powerful tremble as his cock dribbles against his stomach. It's an angry crimson, nearing purple, and Agron doesn't even have a chance to reach for it before it's twitching again. The orgasm hits Nasir like someone pulling his spine through his skin, burning heat and his stomach tenses hard enough he nearly curls up from it.

His cock spurts across his stomach, staining tan white and moving higher and higher until a glob hits Nasir's mouth. He laps at it, barely getting some on his tongue before Agron is swooping down to steal it from him. Agron's lips suckle on Nasir's, slurping up the come and following the trail back down his body.

“Fuck, look how good you take it. Like you were made for me to fuck you,” Agron murmurs, filling the space between them with hot breath, “Going to ruin this ass for everyone else. You're only ever going to want me, got it?”

“Agron,” Nasir moans in reply, eyes fluttering open to watch Agron's growling face.

“You're always going to want me, baby boy,” Agron hisses through his teeth, “No one is ever going to compare and you know it. You've been my cumslut too long, addicted to this cock spearing you open.”

“I am,” Nasir confesses, wanting nothing more than to be pressed under Agron, needing Agron to smother him with his bulk. “Only want you.”

It's too much. Nasir can't breathe, lungs trying and failing to expand as aftershocks shimmer through his body. Even his fingertips are tingling as his elbows finally give out. He can't hold himself up and shake like this. Thankfully, always attune to Nasir, Agron manages to grab him before he falls, pulling him up and against Agron's chest. Nasir buries his face in Agron's neck as the man ruts harder, yanking Nasir down onto his cock by his shoulders, big arms cradling his back.

Holding Nasir's body like this, Agron's mind is blissfully silent. He's only focused on the pull of Nasir's opening against him, drawing him in and Nasir's gasps against his ear. The whole world melts away as Agron shoves harder and harder into Nasir, rocking up on his toes. He's so fucking close, stomach twisting and twisting, and Agron needs this so much.

Nasir's second orgasm is completely unexpected. His cock has nothing left to offer, dribbling helplessly as wave after wave of bone melting heat travels through him. It tightens his body, drawing him down hard on Agron's still moving cock. He didn't even know he could come again this fast, but it's so fucking good, curling Nasir's toes tightly up.

“Fuck!” Agron growls out, biting into Nasir's neck hard enough to draw blood. Nasir doesn't pull away though, retaliating with dragging his nails over and over Agron's back. It's going to be a mess when this is done, both bruised and bloody, but they need it so fucking much.

“Come in me... Please?” Nasir whispers, barely audible.

It's enough, and isn't it always, the way Nasir flips switches inside of Agron. One hand cradling the back of Nasir's head, Agron yanks him down one more time before it's really too much. Agron's cock rests right up against Nasir's prostate as he comes, spilling over and over in dizzying jerks of flesh. It spills over, sliding down Nasir's thighs to Agron's, covering them both. Agron swears it lasts for hours, an eternity of Nasir's body and his body combining, melting together.

In the back of Agron's mind, he knows he should lift Nasir off of him, push him back onto the couch and leave, but right now, all he can focus on is Nasir's quiet little pants against his neck. Stumbling forward, Agron sinks into the couch, keeping Nasir in his lap, cradled against him – cock still tight inside.

Nasir wonders if he should pull back, try to lift off and go get a towel, but Agron's lips against his temple are enough to make him stay, eyes fluttering shut.

 

\- - -

 

“So, Crixus on your side with Gannicus. Nasir and Chadara on mine. Did Saxa okay using Tielo as the ring bearer?” Pietros glances up from his notepad, pen pressed to his bottom lip.

“She said it was fine as long as we're prepared for Tielo to take off his tux sometime during the ceremony,” Barca replies, grinning as he stirs his coffee. “You didn't expect their kid to stay clothed, right?”

“I suppose not,” Pietros rolls his eyes, making a note to put cookies in Tielo's basket to distract him during the ceremony.

“Babe, it's going to be okay. We have six months to figure all of this out.” Barca reaches out to lightly cup Pietros' jaw, smiling at him.

“I know, but the sooner we get who's invited down the sooner we can send out the invitations.”

Pietros kisses Barca's palm before continuing his list.

“So all the guys from your squad. Spartacus. Lugo. Donar. Hieracleo-”

“You're forgetting Agron.” Barca interrupts, eyebrow raised.

“We can't invite him.” Pietros shakes his head quickly.

“We have to invite him. He's been on the team for a long time. He's a good friend.” Barca cuts Pietros off even before he can continue. “Nasir can deal with it.”

“It's going to be awkward. What if they get in a fight? What if something happens and it ruins our day?” Pietros wrinkles his nose, “Nasir is my best man. He shouldn't have to put up with his ex-boyfriend around, and what if Agron brings a plus one? What is Nasir going to do then?”

“Nasir can be an adult and deal with it. Agron won't do anything that's going to piss me off, and if he tries, Crixus can step in.” Barca tries for reassuring, but it doesn't really help.

“If we invite Agron, we have to invite Auctus.” Pietros shrugs, noting it down.

“You want me to invite my ex-boyfriend to our wedding?” Barca crosses his arms slowly over his chest, mouth curling into a scowl, “Ex-boyfriend that threatened you?”

“He apologized. Him and Nasir are on good terms too, surprisingly good terms,” Pietros shrugs, “He works with me. It'd be rude and I want him there.”

“Pietros,” Barca sighs deeply, reaching out a hand to close over Pietros'. “You're not required to be nice to everyone, you know?”

“I'm not being gullible or naive. Auctus fucked up, I get that, but he's made up for it.” Pietros squeezes Barca's hand, raising it to kiss the knuckles, “Neither one of us are perfect, but Auctus has been a lot better. He came by the apartment a few days ago, in fact.”

“Why?” Barca doesn't mean to snap but it comes out that way.

“He sometimes drops by to check in on Nasir. Brought him Chipotle and sat with Nasir while he got ready for work.” Pietros shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “I think he feels kinda in the middle, being with Duro and all that, and working for us.”

“So he comes by and hangs out? That's it?” Barca doesn't like the sound of this. “Is he sleeping with Nasir?”

“What?” Pietros head twists back to look at Barca, eyes narrowed, “No! Of course not!”

“I'm just asking,” Barca shrugs, “I mean, Auctus is kinda Agron built. Plus, Agron already is fucking someone else. I figured if he was rebounding then Nasir was, too.”

“What do you mean Agron is fucking someone else?” Pietros chest constricts, anger fueling through him. It's only been a fucking month, not even, and Agron is already fucking around? Nasir is Pietros' best friend, basically brothers.

“I don't know who. He just came to work the other day and had scratches on his back,” Barca shrugs, “Big hickie on his chest. They were pretty fresh too.”

“That fucking asshole,” Pietros growls, shaking his head.

“He deserves to move on. Nasir hurt him bad,” Barca shrugs, “I can't fault him for that.”

“Still," Pietros shakes his head.

"Let him do what he wants," Barca stands to kiss Pietros, moving towards the door, "All you should worry about is this wedding."

"I guess we can give them a test run at Mira and Spartacus' Christmas party. See how they act around each other," Pietros leans up for another kiss, pecking Barca's cheek.

"They're both invited?" Barca asks, already seeing the problem.

"Of course," Pietros shrugs, standing to grab his jacket, "Speaking of, I should head home really fast. See if we have everything for the cake I promised to make."

"You going to take the subway? I've gotta get to work anyways." Barca follows Pietros to the door.

"Yeah. I'll call you later. I love you." Pietros stands a little taller, kissing Barca's mouth firmly.

Barca grabs Pietros' ass in one hand, tilting his head up further, grinning against his mouth. He would love to spend the day here with Pietros, curled up on the couch together, planning their future - but it's just not possible. The holidays are always a busy time for the fire house.

"I love you too. Be careful."

They head in different directions down the street, both wearing identical grins.

"Nasir?" Pietros calls when he finally gets the door open, walking through the entry hall and into the living room.

It's a fucking wreck, and though Pietros has been very forgiving of Nasir's quiet storm, this is really too much. The couch, which Pietros isn't even fucking sure how this happened considering that both Barca and Crixus struggled to lift the damn thing, has been pushed at least four feet forward, slamming the coffee table into the entertainment unit. The vintage crystal candy dish that Nasir couldn't live without is shattered on the floor, jolly ranchers landing in every direction. The radiator is on full blast, filling the apartment with the thick scent of wet copper and stale air.

"Nasir!" Pietros calls out louder, knowing he's home. He doesn't work until much later.

"Pietros!" Suddenly, Nasir's bedroom door opens just enough for him to slip out, pulling a t-shirt quickly down his body. His hair is soaking wet, leaving a huge circle on the fabric.

"What the fuck is this?" Pietros points at the couch, eyes narrowed. If he hadn't known Nasir for nearly five years now, he wouldn't have noticed it. But there is a weird little tilt in Nasir's head, dark bruise peaking out from the collar of his shirt, and suddenly everything makes sense.

"Are you kidding me right now? You have someone over?" Pietros wants to be mad, but he almost can't be. Must be a fucking beast in bed to move their huge ass couch across the floor, and it's the first time in three weeks that Pietros has seen his best friend look the slightest bit happy.

"Hush. Can you just go hide in you room until I tell you it's clear to come out?" Nasir begs in a quiet voice, moving to crowd against Pietros, trying to push him towards his bedroom.

"He's still here?Pietros asks loudly, looking around as if he's suddenly going to appear, "You let him fuck you and stay for a shower? Must be pretty good."

"Shut up!" Nasir panics, shushing him.

"He built like a tank?" Pietros hisses, trying to whisper around his giggles, "Huge cock? How many times did you come?"

"Please just go hide. I promise, I'll tell you everything when-" Nasir doesn't get to finish his sentence.

The bathroom door opens with a loud click, steam pouring out in a thick cloud. Agron steps through it, towel wrapped firmly around his waist. He holds it in place with one hand while the other combs through his now spikey hair, pushing water back from his forehead. Droplets cling across his chest and neck, rolling down the ridges of his abs, getting lost along the deep cut of his hips. It makes Nasir's mouth water, thinking of their second round and how good all that skin had felt against his own, slick with soap and sweat.

“Pietros,” Agron nods, mouth pulling back int a smirk before his eyes find Nasir.

"Agron," Pietros nods back, trying to hide his surprise. If they were back together, Nasir would have said something, right?

"Your clothes are on the foot of my bed," Nasir murmurs as Agron moves past him.

Neither of them make eye contact, but there is a charged energy in the room, a kind of static that pulls them together but also pushes them apart. Agron's fingers brush Nasir's arm and it feels like a storm is breaking just from the simple caress.

Something catches Pietros' eye as Agron shuts Nasir's bedroom door. Bending over, he holds it between two fingers, raising it up to show Nasir. It's the tattered bits of lace, the ones torn off of Nasir over an hour ago, half lodged under the couch and now on display between them.

“Thought these were your favorite pair?” Pietros asks, smirking slowly, “Agron not agree? Or was he just overly eager to have make up sex?”

“It's not make up sex,” Nasir yanks the ruined underwear from Pietros' hand, “We're just...blowing off some steam.”

“Yeah? You're blowing,” Pietros pauses, grin growing wider under Nasir's uncomfortable stare, “off steam? Jaw must be sore from all that steam you're blowing.”

“Shut up. He went down on me this time,” Nasir snaps, before his cheeks pinken as he realizes what he said. “Not that I wouldn't return – oh shut up!”

Pietros' laughter fills the small apartment, bending over at the waist from all his giggles.

“Don't turn this into a thing,” Nasir rolls his eyes.

“I'm not. I'm just curious. Did you guys have a lot of steam to blow in the shower too?” Pietros follows Nasir as he moves towards the kitchen, depositing the torn lace in the trash. “I just cleaned in there so you better have wiped down the wall. I refuse to let you use his spunk as conditioner or something.”

“Pietros,” Nasir hisses, turning to glare at his roommate, “Look, it's still very new and up in the air. We're just...we're fucking, okay? And that's it.”

“And you're okay with that?” Pietros asks, tone suddenly shifting to serious, “You don't have to do this if you are doing it only because you feel guilty.”

“I want this. I want him,” Nasir replies adamantly, “Whatever way we can figure it out.”

“Are you-” Pietros stops when Agron comes out of the bedroom, holding his work shirt in one hand and his towel in the other.

“Can you make sure I'm not bleeding anymore?” Agron asks, turning to show both of them his back.

It's a fucking wreck, and Pietros has to press his hand to his mouth to keep from gasping. Deep red lines run viciously down Agron's shoulders to his waist, crisscrossing and overlapping in some places. He's not bleeding anymore, but the wounds are an angry crimson, welted up in some parts where it's clear that Nasir dug his nails in. As bad as it looks, all Pietros can focus on is how good the sex must have been to have Nasir clawing at Agron like this.

“Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't realize,” Nasir curses quietly, reaching out to press his cold fingers to Agron's skin. Agron doesn't flinch, but glances over his shoulder with a crooked smirk, green eyes alight.

“Yeah,” Agron shrugs, moving to pull on his shirt, “Guess it just proves I did my job right.”

Nasir ducks his head at Agron's words, blush creeping higher on his cheeks and further down his neck. It's not like its' the first time that Pietros has caught them in or directly after the act, but it's the casual way that Agron just fills the room with it – gloating at the fact. It makes Nasir weak for it, willing to go back down on his knees for Agron.

“Aren't you late for work?” Pietros asks, side eyeing the way Agron's arms bulge around the cut of the sleeves.

“Yeah, probably. Can just tell Spartacus was preoccupied,” Agron shrugs, picking his keys up off the counter and making his way towards the door. “Let me know if the radiator shits out again.”

He brushes past Nasir on purpose, curling his fingers against Nasir's wrist. It's brief, a barely there touch, but Pietros catches the way Nasir's dark eyes flutter, leaning towards Agron. It's the first time Pietros has seen it up close – the effect that Agron has over Nasir. The easy way he can get Nasir to melt for it, begs for it, and it just increases Agron's need to pull the reaction from him, take what Nasir's so fucking willing to offer. It's a push pull, a cat mouse game, of who can entice who enough that they break and they come crashing into each other.

Agron gives a halfhearted wave before shutting the front door behind him, remembering to jiggle it a little until the bolt slides in. It's strange, Pietros realizes slowly, how easy this goodbye was. Usually, before, Agron and Nasir would spend fifteen minutes making out against the door before Agron was forced to remove himself or Nasir had to push away and let each other leave. This is so quick, clipped almost, and Nasir seems to feel it too.

“Well fuck, what are we going to do about the couch?” Pietros asks after a beat, turning to look at the hurricane of their living room.

“I'll call Naevia. See if Crixus can't swing by sometime today,” Nasir sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Let's just say the repairman moved it though, okay?”

“Isn't that what happened?” Pietros asks innocently, laughing as Nasir flips him off, stomping towards his room.

 

\- - -

 

Pulling another bundle of Christmas lights from the tote, Mira turns her head to watch. Both Duro and Agron frame her large picture window, a string of gold and white Christmas tinsel spread between them. They make the perfect little bookends, broad shoulders hidden behind sweaters, Agron's green and Duro's black. Duro's Santa hat is crooked, as always, and Agron has gold glitter all over his forearms. She's just about to ask them if they will stand there all night and be her hot but mostly adorable Christmas decorations when she hears them bickering.

“Higher Duro. You're not even with me,” Agron shakes his arm holding the tinsel in place.

“Lower your side. It needs to droop a little over the window frame,” Duro snaps back, purposely dropping lower.

“It's going to look stupid. Frame the wood,” Agron raises his arm in retaliation.

The garland crinkles in protest, strained in two different directions.

“No. You're going to look stupid. Lower your side,” Duro kicks his leg out, trying to nail Agron in the calf.

“You stupid fuck,” Agron hisses, kicking back and managing to get Duro in the thigh.

“Asshole!” Duro groans, letting go of the tinsel with one hand to rub his sore leg.

“Respect your elders!” Agron retorts, adding in another kick.

“Fuck off.” Duro rolls his eyes, tugging once again at the tinsel garland.

“Agron, listen to your brother. Make a curve,” Spartacus directs, moving through the living room with another box of Christmas decorations. He doesn't even spare the two a glance, walking instead to kiss Mira's cheek, depositing the goods before her. She's momentarily distracted by Spartacus, so she misses it when Duro punches Agron's arm and Agron, in just retaliation, puts Duro in a headlock. She does hear the loud crash as her plastic snowmen lined up on the window sill fall to the floor.

“Boys!” Spartacus snaps over his shoulder, hands still warm on Mira's waist.

“Sorry Dad!” Both men whine together, pausing only a moment before sharing a look and a burst of laughter.

Spartacus ignores them in favor of kissing Mira's temple, holding his fiance close. He's not ashamed to admit he's always had a soft spot for the holidays. They bring people together, and though they are a ragtag team, Spartacus considers his friends to be family.

“Oh Duro!” Mira calls around Spartacus, “Those pictures you did for the shop finally arrived today. You want to see?”

“Fuck yes!”

Duro detangles himself from Agron, having to pinch his brother's chest to get out of the headlock he's currently back in, before following Mira into her and Spartacus' bedroom. For lack of better things to do (and because he is tired of fucking hanging Christmas lights) Agron follows.

“The company I got to mount them took for fucking ever, but they're gorgeous.” Mira grins, moving to a stack of large packages leaning against the wall.

Unwrapping the first one, Mira pulls out the huge 24x36 portrait of Nasir, arched over into a bridge pose. It stretches his stomach into one smooth, thin line, arms above his head. They've photoshopped out the bruise Agron remembers being on the inside of Nasir's thigh. The memory of it jolts him a bit, turning his stomach sour.

“Fuck, these are really great,” Duro agrees, holding the wooden frame between careful hands. “What do you think, bro?”

Agron is about to reply, but loses his train of thought when Mira lifts another out of it's packaging. This is the couples pose they did. Nasir's head tipped back, toes pointed. There is an almost calmness about the photo, the easy way Nasir relaxes into it – trusts Agron to hold him up, to support him, to keep him safe. Agron's arms look strong in the photo, capable. There is a hint of a triumphant smile on Agron's face, like he knows what he's doing for Nasir and he's happy about it – abundantly glad. The realization of it, the glaring evidence before him of his past, failed relationship is too much for Agron to think about – especially now.

“I think I hear Spartacus calling for me,” Agron mutters, backing out of the room.

Both Duro and Mira share a look, too smart to call out after the retreating man.

 

\- - -

 

Music thrums throughout the club, a pulse that gets through the skin, enticing shivers along spines. The patrons barely seem to notice though, captivated by the dancing men on stage. It's a packed house tonight, the day before Christmas Eve, filled with lonely men sipping on drinks and accepting any attention they can get from the strippers.

Two frame the main portion of the stage, swinging around and around on the poles. Their bodies shimmer in the strobe lights, casting shadows on their faces and gleaming on matching metallic blue shorts. It was Lucretia's idea to have all the dances for the next two days be Christmas theme, and already four naughty elves, two Santas, and one very convincing reindeer have danced to remix versions of Christmas carols.

Asher aims the security camera closer to the one in the middle, hiding out in the safety of his office. Hair pulled up and away from his face, Nasir slowly slips the glittery white shirt off his shoulders, tossing it to the side when he gets down to his snowflake printed shorts. The men in the front row draw closer when he sinks to the floor, rolling his hips against it. There is white paint swirling along his back, curling down along his hips like a snow flurry.

He would be in a lot of trouble with Ilithyia if she caught him filming her dancers on his phone, but the pay out weighs the consequences. Besides, there is no denying that Nasir has fucking talent, laid on on his back with his legs spread in a split, accepting the money being shoved into his shorts by a thick waisted man in a suit.

Nasir steals a man's shot from the waitress and drinks it quickly, smirking at the crowd, and the catcalls nearly deafen through the thick office door. Asher has to tip his head to him, swinging his body around. He's changed a lot since the first time he came here, more confident, alright with a passion that was once subdued.

Stopping the video, Asher types out a quick message before sending it via text. He gets his confirmation a moment later. Caesar will transfer the money to account in the morning, an extra bonus for the clear quality and the part of the video where Asher zoomed up on Nasir's ass.

He's just about to go back to balancing the books when something catches his eye. Nasir's set is over, and usually after, he moves through the crowd and grabs any left over tips, sitting on people's laps, accepting the flirting and grabs for a few more bills. Instead though, Nasir has his hand wrapped around someone's wrist, guiding them back to the closed off curtain that leads to backstage.

Asher has to check his phone, go through his messages to the picture Caesar sent. He finally pulls up the photos, a few snap shots from across the street, Nasir standing outside of his tattoo shop, talking to some guy. It was taken over two months ago, a few stills of the couple talking, Nasir raising up on his toes to kiss the man, stealing his beanie.

He's got a thicker beard now, pausing in front of the security guard, but the build is the same – same looming height. Nasir turns to face him for a moment, raising up on his toes to bite the man's earlobe, whispering something, and the man curls his hand down over Nasir's ass, squeezing tightly.

This must be him – Agron.

Asher has to wonder what Caesar would think of this kind of information, watching as Nasir doesn't even bother turning around, just wraps his hand in the front of Agron's shirt, tugging him through the curtain.

This type of leverage over Caesar could pay off though, a bigger pay out in the end, and so with a laugh, Asher puts his phone away.

 

\- - -

 

“You almost ready?” Auctus asks, leaning against the door frame of Duro's bedroom and watching him pull a long sleeved shirt over his head. He never gets tired of seeing Duro's tan skin on display, stretched taught over thick bones and muscles, mourning the loss when the red fabric settles around Duro's hips.

“Yep,” Duro tries to straighten his Christmas hat down over his curly hair, only to have it sit crooked again.

“You going to behave tonight?” Auctus moves into the bedroom to help adjust the hat, sneaking a kiss against the back of Duro's neck.

"Behave?" Duro turns to look at Auctus over his shoulder, raising a hand to adjust his nose ring.

"You know Nasir is going to be there," Auctus doesn't hesitate over the words, but watches Duro's reaction.

"Yeah and he better stay away from Agron," Duro shrugs with a roll of his eyes.

"Duro," Auctus sighs, curling his hands around Duro's waist, "You don't even know the full story. I get that you want to protect your brother, but Agron can handle himself."

"And I know you think you should be in the middle of this, and you are, but I am never going to side with anyone but Agron." Duro leans his back against Auctus' chest, staring straight ahead, "Don't ask me to."

"I'm not," Auctus nuzzles into Duro's neck, kissing the skin, "but I can't let you be like that with Nasir."

"Let me?" Duro tenses, removing his hands from where they wrap gently around Auctus' wrists.

"You came into the shop and threatened him," Auctus pulls away only to have Duro scoff and shove past him, moving into the living room.

"I blame him. It is his fault. He dumped Agron," Duro snaps, "What do you want me to do? Coddle him like you are?"

"Duro, he's one of my best friends.” Auctus defends.

“Yeah and I'm sure give it enough time, he'll probably try and sleep with you too.” Duro growls, crossing his arms over his chest, “Unless he already has.”

“No! Duro, come on. You don't have any idea what he's been through," Auctus can feel the prickles of anger travel up his neck.

"I don't have any idea? I fucking got called to his apartment when he was with Caesar. I saw very well," Duro's voice is raising, half masked by the music coming from Spartacus' apartment above. “I had to hear Agron mope all about it for three months.”

"Duro," Auctus begins, only to have his words interrupted.

"Yes, we all feel so fucking bad for him. Poor, sweet, innocent Nasir. Why am I the only one who can see that Nasir chose to stay with him? He stayed, even when Agron offered outs, even when he could have saved himself." Duro rolls his eyes again.

"You have no fucking idea how abuse works, Duro." Auctus suddenly shouts, too angry to check his tone, "I know you think Nasir is pathetic and weak, but you didn't see the bruises. You didn't see Caesar choking Nasir, shoving Nasir around, hitting him. You didn't see how Nasir used to come to work and hide in the bathroom, crying because there was no out for Nasir. You didn't have to break down his front door because you hadn't heard from him in three days and you thought he was dead, only to discover once you got in, that Caesar had locked him in a closet and left because Nasir was being 'bad'. I'm honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You think I don't know anything about abuse?” Duro asks darkly, eyes narrowed.

“How could you when Agron's been protecting you your whole fucking life?” Auctus' voice doesn't lower volume and a silence descends over the apartment.

The air is tense, charged even, Duro staring at the ground and Auctus' eyes sweeping over his boyfriend – unsure of what to do next. Finally, he sighs.

“Babe,” Auctus steps forward, lightly grabbing Duro's hand, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know you and Agron had it rough.”

“Doesn't really matter does it? Only thing that seems to matter to anyone anymore is Nasir,” Duro spits bitterly and it twists in Auctus' gut.

“The only thing that matters to me is you,” Auctus murmurs, pressing his lips gently to Duro's cheek. “I love you, you know this. Please don't be mad at me. I'm sorry I said that to you. I just am at a loss sometimes in what to do.”

“I get it,” Duro mutters, relenting and kissing Auctus chastely, “It's a hard situation and we're on opposite teams. I don't want to bring it between us though.”

“I'm always on your team, babe,” Auctus presses another kiss to Duro's mouth, cupping his face. “Always for you.”

“I love you,” Duro presses his forehead to Auctus' closing his eyes slowly, “I really do.”

“I love you too,” Auctus replies. He's just about to pull Duro's mouth back against his own when Agron opens the front door.

His face is flushed from the cold, yanking his leather jacket down his arms and tossing it onto the couch as he strides across the room.

“Hey,” Agron nods, patting Auctus roughly on the shoulder and kissing Duro's temple, “You guys go ahead and take the mulled wine upstairs. I'm gonna catch a quick shower and head up.”

He's already stripping, yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it towards his room as he heads towards the bathroom. Duro whistles lowly as they take in Agron's scratched back, a bruise on his chest in the shape of teeth.

“Come on,” Auctus pulls Duro towards the kitchen and away from oogling his brother, shaking his head.

 

\- - -

 

Spartacus wrinkles his nose as he walks through the apartment building hallway, noticing the cracks in the walls, the peeling paper. It smells dank, like sweat and stale cigarettes, and every other step the floor creaks. It's clear the building is in bad shape, even after passing the mysterious stain on the second floor landing that reeks of urine and wet paint. Finally, he rounds the corner to see a little blue welcome mat and a wreath made out of plastic snowflakes, a centered 307 in rusty metal numbers.

Smoothing his hands down his coat, Spartacus raises one to knock his knuckles lightly on the chipped wood. He knows he shouldn't judge this building. It's in a key location in Brooklyn, pretty nice neighborhood, whatever. Still, as someone who owns a building, Spartacus is disgusted that the landlord has let the place deteriorate like this.

Nasir opens the door a moment later. Spartacus is surprised actually at how confused his loks, standing there in a pair of green harem pants, large button up hanging open, holding a large cup of what he presumes due to the smell, is apple cider. He flounders for a moment, a look of shock gracing his round face, before he pulls the shirt closed tightly against his chest.

“Spartacus! What a surprise.”

“Can I come in?” Spartacus asks, keeping his gaze on Nasir’s face.

“Of course.”

Nasir motions towards the inner apartment, and Spartacus follows closely behind. He's glad to see that the dilapidated building is half hidden in the interior decorations of the place. Large colorful tapestries line the living room wall, random bits of art hanging in between. There is a plush rug under the coffee table and throw pillows on the couch. It makes sense to Spartacus why Agron would like spending time here, the whole place smelling of cinnamon and sandalwood. It’s calm and quiet, a kind of oasis. Still, Spartacus is surprised to find no Christmas decorations, no twinkling lights, not even a Christmas card magnetted to the fridge.

“How are you Nasir?” Spartacus asks, turning to look at the man.

He still has his fingers wrapped tightly in the front of shirt, and Spartacus won't comment, but it's so clearly Agron's from the way it hangs off Nasir's smaller frame.

“I'm good. How are you?” Nasir shifts uncomfortably, keeping his eyes on Spartacus. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

“I'm well. Mira sent me to pick you up. It's snowing out and she doesn't want you bothering with the subway,” Spartacus sinks into the couch, crossing his ankle over his knee. “But you don't seem to be ready.”

“I was uh,” Nasir scratches the back of his head, “I wasn't going to go, actually. I work tonight and-”

“Nasir, sit by me for a minute.” Spartacus pats the spot next to him on the couch.

Nasir sinks down slowly, curling his legs under him. He balances his mug on his knee, long fingers wrapped around the side, concentrating on the amber liquid instead of looking at Spartacus. He feels guilty, planning on sending a text to Mira by eleven telling her something came up.

“You know, I was really curious about you the first time I met you,” Spartacus begins, keeping his voice slow and even.

“I've heard mixed reviews from people,” Nasir mutters bitterly, “The general opinion wasn't very positive.”

“It was a shock to see Agron with the same man twice, I'll admit,” Spartacus nods, “but I'm not talking in relation to Agron. I'm talking about you.”

“What about me?” Nasir slowly raises his eyes to look at Spartacus – apprehension clear.

“You're passionate, Nasir, you have a fire in you that I've seen grow and grow over the last few months,” Spartacus explains, “It takes a lot to change your life around the way you have. Yet, you still seem to think you didn’t do anything.”

“I didn't do it alone,” Nasir sighs, shaking his head, “I owe all of this to you and Agron.”

“You don't though. You left Caesar, not Agron or me. You stayed away from him, stayed strong against his attacks. Yes, Agron was a support to you, but you chose to restart your life away from the pain and abuse Caesar caused on you. It's not something to belittle,” Spartacus watches Nasir's face as a blush slowly creeps over his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Nasir murmurs, blinking and looking away.

“You've created a new life for yourself, with new friends and family,” Spartacus continues, “People who love you and want you around.”

“I appreciate that, but I only met you guys because of Agron. You belonged to him first and should stay that way,” Nasir feels miserable for finally admitting that. He'll never see Naevia's baby, go to Mira's wedding, or watch Tielo grow up. He has to distance himself, prepare for that section of his life to disappear.

“Nasir, we're people not toys. We belong to ourselves and associate with who we want. Mira wants you to come our party. I want you to come to our party. Naevia, Crixus, Gannicus.” Spartacus speaks and reaches across to gently grip Nasir's arm.

“It’s not right,” Nasir shakes his head slowly, feeling emotion choking at his throat. Why must Spartacus always be so wise? So caring about people that everyone else has abandoned?

“I know it hurts and it's awkward. But Nasir, we love you. You are part of us, and I'm not going to just let you disappear because you and Agron are broken up.”

Nasir smiles a little, gently gripping Spartacus hand back. He's unsure of what to say, suddenly floored by the pure honesty in Spartacus words. This is the first time in Nasir's life when he has been wanted outside of a sexual or romantic relationship. Spartacus just wants him around because he cares about him, wants what's good and right for Nasir.

“I appreciate everything you’re saying, but I don’t know if this is the wisest choice. I know both Saxa and Duro don’t want me there. I’m sure Agron the same.”

Spartacus sighs, shaking his head.

“Nasir, I’m not going to take no for an answer. You will be my guest in my house and if anyone has a problem with it, they can leave.”

Nasir opens his mouth to protest one last time but Spartacus shakes his head firmly.

“My house. My rules. Now go get ready, and wear that sweater Mira sent you. She wants to take a Christmas photo tonight and there is no use in trying to get out of it.”

 

\- - -

 

“Here. Have another,” Pietros laughs, sloshing a red plastic cup into Nasir's hand. His face is flushed, eyes bright as he sways a little to the Christmas carol blasting through the apartment. Mira seems to have found every remixed, dance version, filling the space with cheer but also a heavy bass.

“Ugh,” Nasir groans, but drinks heavily from the cup, “Who even fucking made this? So fucking good.”

He inhales the scent of the mulled wine, cinnamon and oranges, tilting the cup against his lips. It's an explosion of cloves and spices mixed with Merlot, still hot and soothing against Nasir's throat. This is his third cup in an hour, and though he knows he should probably slow down, Nasir figures he can go to work drunk and no one will notice. It's Christmas after all.

“Who made what?” Agron suddenly appears in the kitchen door way, hair still wet and spikey.

Nasir takes him in slowly, the broad shoulders and bulging arms. It's so unfair how attractive Agron always is, covered in grime or straight out of a shower. Though his hazy, lust filled gaze though, Nasir stops - a sudden realization occurring. They're wearing the same sweater – green cotton with the words “Merry Christmas” broken up by the image of two stags fucking. It's the one Mira forced Nasir to wear, and probably did the same to Agron.

“Nice sweater,” Pietros snarks, nodding towards both men.

“Yeah, give it to Mira to find the gayest Christmas sweater ever,” Agron grins, holding out the hem to look at the two deer.

“Good color for both of you,” Pietros nods, taking another pull of his drink. “You know, let me get a picture. You both look adorable.”

“No, Pietros, come on,” Nasir shakes his head, only to have Agron wrap his arm around his waist and pull him close.

“Look like you like me,” Agron murmurs into Nasir's ear, fingers tight on his hip.

“Agron-” Nasir tilts his head up to look at him, meeting his gaze, just as the flash of Pietros' phone goes off.

“Perfect.” Pietros croons, staring at his phone. It's almost like before, when all of Agron and Nasir's pictures were them staring at each other and never at the camera.

“See, wasn't so hard,” Agron smirks. His eyes are so green due to the sweater, staring down at Nasir like some giant. It leaves him breathless, suspended between all the past and now the present.

“I need more wine,” Nasir mutters, pulling back from Agron's grip with a blush.

“The mulled wine? Is it good? I made it in between shifts,” Agron leans against the counter, ignoring the way Pietros slips from the room.

“It is,” Nasir turns his back on Agron, pouring himself another cup, “Do you want some?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Agron moves towards Nasir, standing behind him as he ladles the wine into a cup, steam curling up from it. Reaching out, Agron gently wraps his hand around Nasir's wrist when he puts the spoon back into the pot, turning him around against the counter. Nasir's eyes hesitantly raise to look up at him, nervously biting his lip.

“Is this how it's going to be now?” Agron asks softly, moving his fingers down Nasir's forearm, “Pretending we hate each other around everyone else and fucking in private?”

“I know you hate me,” Nasir replies, biting on his wine stained bottom lip, “I know I shouldn't be here. Spartacus forced me to come and I-”

Nasir is cut off as Agron presses his mouth down against Nasir's, coaxing his bottom lip free from his teeth with a gentle nudge. The kiss is slow, both barely opening their mouths and Agron's tongue licks almost shyly at Nasir's top lip, tasting him for the first time in nearly a month. He sighs quietly, pulling back after a moment, blinking his eyes open to look at Nasir's awed face. He rubs his lips together after, not looking apologetic, but almost savoring the moment. Agron ducks his head a little, blushing high on his cheeks.

“I want you here, Nasir. You're part of this family now,” Agron murmurs, gently lacing his fingers through Nasir's, “We love you. You're safe here with us, and that's all that matters to me. I just want you safe and happy.”

He wants to tag onto it how much it hurts to have Nasir this close but not close enough. How every moment he's in the room with Agron makes it hard for him to breathe, wanting to reach out and touch Nasir, only to know that it will be rejected. Still, it would be cruel for Agron to tell Nasir he doesn't want him here. The people in the other room care about them, both of them, and though he might not like to admit – they're all Nasir has.

“I'm safe,” Nasir whispers, staring at their hands, “and happy here – with you.”

“Don't." Agron keeps their fingers together but drops his head. "Don't say it like that.”

“I'm-I'm sorry,” Nasir cringes, trying to pull away. The words slipped out before he could stop them. Yet, it seems like at every turn, Nasir is finding new ways to hurt Agron.

Agron lifts their fingers slowly to his lips, kissing the knuckles gently, noticing the contrast. Nasir's tan fingers next to Agron's own pale ones, almost like drawing a line. Agron takes a shuddering breath, pulling back a moment later with a small smile, removing himself from Nasir.

“Come on. It's a Christmas party, and I am really craving some of Naevia's sugar cookies.”

He backs towards the kitchen door, making sure Nasir follows.

Two hours later and Nasir and Pietros are slow dancing in the living room, Nasir's head resting on Pietros' shoulder. The music has changed from fast paced techno Christmas carols to something softer, someone finally requesting Elvis' “Blue Christmas”. Both Nasir and Pietros are singing at the top of their lungs as they sway, empty pot of mulled wine being the cause.

“ _I'll have a Blue Christmas without you!I'll be so blue just thinking about you !_ ” Pietros croons, dipping Nasir back only to pull him back up again.

Nasir's face is flushed bright red, eyes a little hazy as he laughs, gripping Pietros' hand in one and wrapping the other around his waist. He's never realized how tall Pietros actually is, but then again, Nasir isn't exactly average height either.

Glancing around Pietros' shoulder, Nasir locks eyes with Agron who is in deep discussion with both Donar and Lugo. His cheeks are rosey, making his freckles stand out along the bridge of his nose, and though he's across the room, Nasir feels like he's right up against him. Skin prickling, hot and breathless as Pietros continues singing in his ear.

_“Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me!”_

Agron turns away first, laughing at something Donar said but he didn't catch, wrapping an arm around some unknown guy, tucked tightly to his side. He's got fairly long dark hair, falling straight and thin to his shoulders, and small blue eyes. Nasir can't see that much from where he is, but it's clear the guy is into Agron as he leans into his side.

“No more of this sad shit. I want to dance!” Gannicus calls from the corner of the room, lifting his beer up at Mira, who quickly shoves past people to the stereo.

The apartment is packed, having invited everyone from Mira's job at the gym, the whole fire squad that isn't on duty tonight, several random people that Gannicus knows. Everyone is dressed in shades of red and green and gold, a whole group of girls in the corner wearing silver sweaters and headbands. And everyone, literally everyone, is halfway between drunk and plastered.

The music changes to a new song, another remix of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. Before he knows what's happening, Nasir is being shoved into someone else's arms as Barca comes and swoops up Pietros in a drunken hug, smacking their lips together harshly.

Turning around, Nasir is confused on whether to be annoyed or delighted to realize he's fallen right into Castus. He's wearing a black sweater covered in snowflakes, a lazy grin pulled back on his face as he settles his hands on Nasir's slim hips.

“You seem to have lost a dance partner,” Castus' notes, nodding his head towards Pietros and Barca who are now slouched against the wall making out.

“I have,” Nasir nods, letting his fingers come up to lightly rest against Castus' shoulders, “Are you offering?”

“Am I going to get punched again by your boyfriend?” Castus asks, grin falling a little.

“We're not-” Nasir chokes, ducking his head, and Castus gets it. He's noticed Agron's change in mood, his even more proneness to fury. He stomps around the fire house like the whole world is to blame for his fucked up life right now.

“His loss.”

“Well no, I mean, I broke up with him.” Nasir confesses, cringing at the words.

“Glad you finally realized you deserved better.”

Castus grips Nasir's hand and spins him slowly, eyes drifting over his body, taking in every detail, before pulling him close again. Nasir goes willingly, falling against Castus as they begin to sway to the music. They're probably going much slower than they should, but Nasir suddenly feels bone tired, afraid to turn around and watch Agron with that new guy.

It's nice almost, to be pressed up against Castus' warm chest, taking in his scent. It's lighter than what he's used to, almost minty with a twist of something else – salt water. It's not overpowering and it doesn't stir anything in him, and yet Nasir finds him comforting, a stand in for what he really wants.

Castus turns them slowly, finger inching up Nasir's back to play with the tips of his hair. The feeling only lasts as long as Nasir keeps his eyes shut, but when he opens them, he catches sight of Agron over Castus' shoulder and ice drifts back along his spine. Agron is hunched to the side, one hand tangled fiercely into the guy's hair as they kiss. It's sloppy, to say the least, with the guy keeping his mouth open and lax and Agron just plunging his tongue between his fairly thin lips.

The guy moans, clearly and tips his head further back, reaching short fingers along Agron's thigh and then between. He cups Agron's cock in the palm, rubbing slowly but firmly along the zipper of his jeans. Agron pulls back just for a moment to pant, eyes not meeting the boy's but turning to glance at Nasir, seeming to freeze himself when their meet eyes.

“I need a drink,” Nasir mutters, yanking himself away from Castus and turning.

“Do you want me to get it for you?” Castus asks, but it's lost in the crowd's noise as Nasir shoves through.

The kitchen is blissfully empty when Nasir gets there, panting hard against the counter and trying hard to fight back tears. This is his fault. There is no one else to blame but himself. If they hadn't broken up, if Nasir hadn't broke Agron's heart and shattered his own, then they wouldn't be in opposite sides of the party, hooking up with separate people. They would be curled up in some corner, sharing cookies and wine between them, making out while Mira and Saxa croon over them. Instead, Nasir is trying to fight back broken sobs in the kitchen while some other guy puts his hands all over Agron.

He doesn't even realize someone's followed him into the kitchen until a warm hand presses against the back of his neck, so familiar and comforting Nasir both hates and loves it at the same time.

Nasir turns quickly, glaring up at Agron with slitted eyes before putting his hands in the center of Agron's chest and shoving as hard as he can. Agron stumbles back more from shock than the force, back peddling into the cupboard door with a loud thump.

“Nasir-” Agron starts, only to be cut off as Nasir comes at him, pressing tightly to Agron's front.

He keeps his gaze locked on Agron's as he grinds up against him, feeling Agron's cock twitch against the front of jeans. Blindly, Nasir reaches around him to grab the door knob, having to move with Agron to get it open before they both stumble inside.

Nasir yanks the cupboard closed before instantly dropping to his knees, fingers going for Agron's belt. If it's hot in the apartment, it's ten times hotter in the dusty cupboard, shelves lined with cans and old, forgotten baking dishes. Agron pulls his sweater off, skin pink and sweaty, leaving him in a gray tank top, and lifts that up from his hips as Nasir finally gets his jeans halfway down his thighs.

All coherent thought, words, just leave Agron the minute Nasir gets his lips wrapped around him. He doesn't take his time, not wanting to tease or go easy, just takes Agron down straight to the hilt, throat constricting tightly around the girth of Agron's cock before he remembers to breathe. Agron still smells the same, curly hair at the base of his cock tickling Nasir's nose as he gags on it, wishing he could just swallow Agron whole.

Tilting his head back, Agron let out a loud moan, so caught off guard from this. His eyes close and feels his way with his fingertips along Nasir's jaw, cheeks concave, up to his loose hair. He doesn't grip it, but help push it back from Nasir's face, gently holding his head between giant palms. He has no intention of doing anything but letting Nasir take what he wants.

Pulling back, Nasir spits onto Agron's cock, half milky white from his precome, before wrapping his hand around the base. He strokes quickly and with sharp twists of his wrist as he takes the head back between his lips, pressing careful and light teeth to the sensitive ridge, tongue swirling around the tip. His mouth is so wet and it's so sloppy, but Nasir can't slow down, milking Agron and probing his tongue into his slit.

Inching forward along the floor, Nasir manages to get his own jeans open as he sucks Agron's cock back in, bobbing his head in a tiredless rhythm, shoving it down his throat and then back out, over and over. With his free hand, he moves to massage Agron's heavy balls, rolling them in his palm as he gets his own jeans open, pulling his cock out just so it can hang there, viciously red and dribbling.

“Shit!” Agron hisses, tilting his head down just far enough to watch the flesh disappearing between Nasir's full, red mouth.

As if sensing it, Nasir lifts his eyes, smirking when he takes in Agron's gaping face, mouth fully open as he pants and moans, fighting every second to keep his hips still. He so rarely gets to do this, hold Agron captive, take control, so when he does – he makes the most out of it.

“Should get you jealous more often, huh?” Agron teases, moaning loudly right after as Nasir zigzags his tongue up the thick veins running along Agron's cock.

“Not jealous,” Nasir hisses as he gasps in a breath.

“No, just staking your claim?” Agron's laugh turns into a breathy growl in the next moment.

Never slowing, Nasir begins to twist his head, gripping down hard and firm with his lips, teasing his bottom teeth lightly over the thick vein running along the bottom of Agron's cock. It's so fucking huge, and yet Nasir can't seem to get enough, letting go of his own cock to grip Agron's ass, pulling his hips up from the shelves and closer to him.

Agron can't help it, letting out a soft whimper when Nasir brings him in and holds, throat contracting around him as Nasir swallows. It's so fucking tight, slick and hot, just like every other part of Nasir. Sweat is sliding down Agron's arms, his chest, staining the front of his tank top in a v. He can feel where Nasir is sweating too, hair growing damp with it.

“Fuck, you look so good like this, baby. So good for me,” Agron murmurs, half dazed as Nasir pulls back, pressing a wet kiss to the base of Agron's cock, lapping at his balls a little. “Only want you.”

Nasir preens under the attention, smirking in the low light before getting back to the task at hand. His own cock once forgotten between his thighs suddenly jerks, pleasure curling up from his groin to his stomach. Before Nasir can really comprehend, he's coming with Agron's cock in his mouth. He cries out, mouth tightening down on Agron's flesh, thrusting his hips forward and thus drawing himself even closer to Agron. It feels like he's being ripped in half, half wanting to fall back and ride out the waves of pleasure and half needing to keep Agron close.

He can feel it spread up his sweater, staining the green white and dripping onto Agron's boots. There is so much, body tingling from it, a high that makes him dizzy and so warm. His body shudders, using one hand on Agron's hip to steady himself, as he falls forward a little, nestling Agron's cock back into his throat.

Refusing to quit even though he feels boneless, Nasir pulls out all his tricks to get Agron off. He twists his head, bobs his head sharp and deep, letting Agron's cock grinding against his throat, sucking in breaths between. He rolls Agron's balls between his palms, slipping a finger behind to press smoothly and firm against Agron's perineum. He doesn't push further back, but keeps the pad of his middle finger tight against the soft skin, smoothing circles over and over again.

“Oh fuck! Nasir! I'm-” Agron gasps, hands involuntarily tightening in Nasir's hair. His stomach tightens to almost painful, curling him forward to watch.

Falling back, Nasir tilts his face up for it, holding Agron's cock steady in one hand and stroking with the other as he pulses. Thick seed splatters first up his collar and then onto his face, staining across Nasir's lips, his cheeks, his eyes. He opens up for it, letting some drip onto his tongue, ignoring the fact that Agron probably came in his hair. Instead, he laps at his lips, waiting until Agron's cock softens before letting it go.

It's something they've never done and Nasir isn't sure why. It's not degrading to feel the hot splatter of Agron's seed across his face, catching on his eyebrow, his cheeks, his lips. He feels marked, claimed by this man – this beast that finds pleasure in giving pleasure, in taking pleasure from him. There is something so erotic, tasting and smelling Agron's seed, feeling it slipping down his chin.

With a thud, Agron drops to his knees, gently hooking his fingers in the hem of Nasir's sweater and lifting it over the top of his head. He uses the fabric to wipe at Nasir's face, cleaning the white from his eyelashes before licking the rest off his mouth. Trailing kisses down his chest and stomach, Agron goes down to clean off Nasir's cock, sucking lightly at the skin and drinking in the left over come there.

“Too sensitive,” Nasir pats at Agron's back, slumping down to sit, leaning back against the cupboard wall.

Sinking down himself, Agron sits next to Nasir and pants up at the ceiling, feeling as if someone has knocked out his knees. He knows they should get back to the party soon, but can't seem to move, staring at Nasir out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you think Mira is going to kill me for ruining her present?” Nasir asks after a while, turning to look at Agron.

“Not if you tell her how we ruined it,” Agron replies, both men dissolving into giggles.

It's blissful, in this moment, to pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. That Nasir won't have to leave this oasis and return to the reality of their situation, dancing on stage and letting other men touch him, body and mind begging for it to be someone else. Agron staying awake at night, fingers tracing along Nasir's side of the bed, afraid to touch his pillow in case the scent of his hair is fading. So many things left unspoken, they're so close yet have never been farther.

Finally, Agron manages to pull himself to his feet, yanking back up his jeans and buckling himself back in. Nasir does the same, not awkwardly, but the air has definitely shifted. It's no longer playful, and they must retreat from the cupboard.

“Here, take my sweater. I can wear this,” Agron holds out his to Nasir, pulling at the hem of his tank top. He notices but doesn't comment on the new tattoo curling along Nasir's hip, a scrawling text of something that Agron can't read.

“Are you sure?” Nasir asks, already pulling it over his head, covering his bare chest. It's way too big, falling over Nasir's ass to mid-thigh He can smell Agron's scent all over it, thick and musky from the sweat.

“Yeah, just tell people I spilt wine on you or something and felt bad.” Agron shrugs, licking a stray line of come off his wrist. Nasir watches, feeling heat once again pool at his spine, wanting nothing more than to kiss the taste out of his mouth.

Agron hesitates with his hand wrapped around the doorknob, looking like he wants to say something else, instead settling for pressing a soft kiss to Nasir's temple before slipping out the door and running directly into Duro.

“Brother!” Agron greets, voice booming in the small kitchen.

“Agron,” Duro nods, only to have his face grabbed and kissed.

Agron doesn't play fair either, pushing harder against Duro's mouth, coaxing his little brother's open before pushing his tongue deep inside. He wrestles with Duro's for a moment, tasting distinctly of salt and something else – tangy like pineapple even, before pulling back with a grin. It's then that Duro's eyes slide to the side and sees Nasir exiting the cupboard, awkwardly wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, a glob of something caught in his hair.

“Did you just-” Duro asks horrified, realizing slowly that the taste in Agron's mouth can only be one thing.

“Merry Christmas.” Agron smirks wide, glancing back at Nasir before strutting out of the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Duro mutters, fingers coming up to his lips before narrowing his eyes at Nasir.

He can't fucking believe that they're fucking again. Of course Nasir would do something so selfish. He can't just cut his ties, too obsessed with using Agron for whatever he wants – pleasure, comfort, protection. Duro doesn't care what Auctus thinks, he's clearly blind too, if he thinks that Nasir is anything but a spoiled bitch.

“Can I talk to you, for just a second?” Nasir asks, hesitantly wringing the hem of what is clearly Agron's sweater between his fingers.

“What do you want?” Duro snaps, standing up taller and crossing his arms over his chest. He can only fucking imagine.

“I uh,” Nasir shuffles a little, pulling something from the back of his jeans. It's a red envelope, a little crinkled on the sides but intact.

“Spit it out,” Duro growls, mouth curling down into a frown.

“I wanted to give this to you.” Nasir holds out the envelope. “Well to you to give to Agron. I bought it over a month ago. It's nonrefundable.”

“What is it?” Duro takes it slowly, flipping it over to see a small airplane sticker on the front.

“I bought Agron tickets to go to Germany. I know you guys only vacationed there like once when you were in middle school and he's really wanted to go back.” Nasir can't raise his eyes, hands still moving.

“So?” Duro asks, a creeping realization taking over.

“Well, I went full out on them. You'll have a booked room waiting for you. I bought tickets advanced to all the main sites, some in the major city and some in the area. The mini bar and snack bar in the room are paid for. It's all inclusive trip,” Nasir explains, “You really just have to show up. Plus I planned it out with Spartacus so it's during Agron's planned vacation in June.”

“Oh Nasir,” Duro deflates, shaking his head, “I can't take this.”

“He deserves to go,” Nasir presses the envelope firmly in Duro's hand, tilting his head up. “I can't return it and Agron-” Nasir chokes a little. “I just need him to have it, okay? Just say it's from you. Say you saved up or something.”

“He'll know,” Duro keeps shaking his head, disbelieving that this is happening. This trip is over ten thousand dollars, a whole lot more than either of them can afford.

“He won't. I used the money I got from the insurance after the fire. He saved my life from that. He deserves the reward. I just,” Nasir sighs, smiling sadly, “I just want him to be happy. Please, you both should go and enjoy it.”

“Nasir,” Duro tries again, guilt curling in his stomach for all the harsh things he had said earlier.

“I've got to get to work. Christmas shift is always rough. Merry Christmas Duro.”

Raising up on his toes, Nasir kisses Duro gently on the cheek, making sure he has a firm grip on the envelope before moving away towards the front door. He stands there, half hidden by the darkness of the entry way and multiple coats, watching as Duro numbly makes his way across the room to talk to Agron. They press close together and Nasir watches as Agron takes the envelope, face suddenly brightening as he laughs loudly, pulling Duro into a tight hug. He looks delighted, dimples on full display as he opens the present, going through the travel details and contents. The people around them suddenly break out in peels of glee and cheer.

Smiling sadly to himself, Nasir turns, pulling on his coat as he exits. He's got half an hour to get across town to Ludus and it's just starting to snow.

 

\- - -

 

Dipping his fingers in cold water, Nasir pats under his eyes, trying to relieve them a little of the redness. He had cried on the way over to Ludus, hiding his face from the cabby and staring at into the Christmas night. Everything had seemed so alive, so colorful, New York lit up to the nines, and yet Nasir feels cold.

He can't get the image of Agron with that guy out of his head, replaying over and over. And though it didn't last long, it was there – shining bright in the middle of the party. Like a black hole, sucking Nasir in and not letting him turn away. Is this how it's going to be from now on? Watching Agron work his way through countless men? Coming back to Nasir to hurt both of them all over again?

Reaching for his neck, Nasir curses under his breath. It's been a month and he still reaches for his necklace – for Agron, expecting him to be there. The constant reminder that all of this, every broken look at Agron sends him, the silent times now filling Nasir's life, it's all his fucking fault. He thought he was stronger, and yet one accidental brush of Agron's fingertips on his are more painful than anything Nasir has ever experienced.

The dressing room door opens, flooding the room with loud music before the click of the lock deafens it out again. Nasir already knows who it is before he feels the cold fingertips trailing down his back. It's weird, when he thinks about it, how Agron is always so fucking warm and Caesar is frozen.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Caesar's lips trace up the side of Nasir's neck, licking teasingly at the sharp cut of his jaw. Hands slide around his waist, Caesar lifting his fingers to press roughly to Nasir's ribs. They've taken to sticking out lately when he moves, lines on his side and a dozen bumps on his back. Pietros has been commenting on it, but Nasir ignores him, fills his stomach with wine and guilt.

“Caesar,” Nasir's voice is soft but it feels like he's scrapping every letter from his throat. The familiar fear creeps up his back, compressing his lungs, drying his mouth. Nothing has changed almost, Nasir terrified of what Caesar is and what he does.

“You don't seem happy to see me,” Caesar pouts, Nasir catching his reflection in the mirror.

“Of course I am,” Nasir chokes, feeling the warning prickles of Caesar's nails on his hips. “Merry Christmas.”

Caesar tilts Nasir's head to the side, pressing his lips firmly down onto Nasir's lax ones. He doesn't want for an invitation, just presses his tongue forward, expecting and being rewarded with Nasir's mouth falling open. Tangling his fingers in Nasir's hair, Caesar keeps them pressed together, sharing breath between them. He's been trained so well to respond to what Caesar wants and when he wants it.

Nasir keeps his eyes shut just so he can hold back the tears, but it's inevitable. The leak down his cheeks, falling into his hair. Everything about this is so wrong. Caesar smells like cigars, too cold with his movements, too sharp and rough. It twists the guilt deeper, numbs him out until Nasir feels hollow, barely standing at all.

“I missed this,” Caesar murmurs, tracing a wet path along Nasir's cheek, “You are so pretty when you cry.”

“Thank you,” Nasir whispers, trying not to flinch when Caesar turns him around.

“You've been doing really well, learning your lesson.” Caesar smooths his thumb along Nasir's bottom lip, “I heard you broke that giant asshole's heart. One of my guys too pictures for proof. He looks so pathetic next to that truck.”

Nasir drops his eyes, feeling the blow clear to the bottom of his stomach.

“I mean damn, you made him cry. I'm almost impressed with you.”

Nasir opens his mouth but no sound comes out, bile rising in his throat.

“Guess it makes sense though. You always were poisonous to everyone around you.”

“I know.” Nasir whispers, wiping at his cheeks with the side of his hand.

“You know I love you though. We can make you better, make you worthy of my love.”

Caesar lifts Nasir's head up, gripping his jaw hard enough to dent his cheeks.

“Say it.”

Nasir remembers the same phrase used so much with Agron, and if could take it back, he would have told Agron his answer for Caesar instead.

“I love you.”

“Good boy,” Caesar smirks, patting Nasir's cheek roughly. “I love you too. Have a good show. You're almost there.”

“Almost there?” Nasir asks, turning to watch Caesar walk towards the door.

“To earning by my love, my trust. So we can be together again, happy,” Caesar acts like it's the most obvious reason in the world, “How are we supposed to get married if I can't trust you to be faithful to me?”

“Marriage?” Nasir chokes again, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Of course. I'll even let you invite all those new friends of yours, specially that god forsaken oaf.”

Caesar leaves with a smirk, and Nasir doesn't break down until the door is completely shut.

 

\- - -

 

When he gets home that night, covered in sweat and glitter, Nasir isn't surprised to find the apartment empty. Pietros has been moving his stuff slowly but surely to Barca's house. Their lease is up in April, and Pietros will go live with his fiance and Nasir will be left once again alone. Nasir isn't bitter about it, knowing that it's what Pietros truly wants – what will make him happy. He can't be mad for that, just quietly bitter.

Stripping down, Nasir tosses his cash on the bedside table – nearly three thousand dollars. He doesn't bother on putting any clothes, flopping into the center of the bed and pulling the blankets up over him. He feels sick after what Caesar said to him, reminded instantly of all the fear, the months of uncertainty. It wrings him dry, sucks all the energy and warmth from him. Nasir's so distracted by needing to sleep, trying to forget this evening, that he almost misses the present that is on the foot of the bed.

Sitting up, Nasir pulls it towards him. It's a long velvet box, a tiny red bow on the top, wrapped haphazardly in ribbon. It's sloppy, like it was done by large hands, unsure of what exactly they were doing. And just like that, a small flame of warmth ignites in Nasir's chest. Only one person could possibly do this, sentiment so clear behind it's creation.

Opening it, Nasir gasps quietly in the silent bedroom, fingers trailing over the bracelet. It's curled silver, intricate swirls over a large red stone. Tiny curled pheonixs' line the sides of the bracelet, wings extended in a sharp, beautiful arch. Woven within the metal and connecting the birds are thin strips of mahogany leather, braided into the back and joined by a tiny clasp. Nasir can tell it's old, probably an heirloom or at least vintage.

Nasir has many bracelets, necklaces, hip chains. He likes jewelry, likes being adorned in things that sparkle and jingle when he walks. He's always been fond of anything that shines against his skin. Yet, this is is more beautiful, more intricate than anything else he's ever owned.

Lifting it from it's velvet resting place, Nasir wraps it around his left wrist, hooking it together with a little concentration. It's heavy, but fits perfectly around him, resting just below the knob of his wrist bone. Underneath the jewel setting in the box, Nasir notices a tiny slip of paper, half forgotten it seems, placed there before the bracelet.

Uncurling it, Nasir presses his fingers to his lips. They tremble under the touch, the bottom caught between his teeth as he reads the uneven, slightly slanted print.

_”Just like a country song”_

 

\- - -

 

Time slips by like the snow, thick and heavy, an ever present cold descending upon Nasir and Agron. They see each other often at social functions, attending Naevia and Crixus' New Years Eve party with barely an incident. They fuck during the ball drop, Agron muffling Nasir's cries with his hand when he comes just as the ball hits Happy New Year. They share a kiss afterward, Nasir pulling away when it gets to be too much – both forgetting themselves. Agron still lets his fingers linger on the bracelet – the one Nasir never takes off now – before throwing on his jacket and leaving.

They don't see each other until the night of Nasir's 20th birthday, Agron was forced to come by Duro. (Duro is so adamant about it that Agron is surprised at his sudden change in heart towards the little Syrian) They all go to some club on the lower East Side, and though he's underage still, everyone buys Nasir enough drinks that he's pretty plastered by midnight. Agron and Mira hold his hair back when he inevitably pukes, after Agron nearly punches a guy in the face who won't leave Nasir alone. The drive back to Nasir's apartment is quiet, Nasir quietly moaning with his head in Agron's lap, trying to open his jeans. Agron gently pushes him away, keeping him close, but he knows they're not going to fuck tonight. When Agron carries him upstairs, he stays until he knows Nasir is done being sick, sitting beside him while he's passed out and strokes his hair.

They fuck through Valentine's Day, ignoring Duro's narrowed eyes and comments every time they take a break to grab some water or a snack, until finally Duro leaves to go spend the evening with Auctus. They fuck on Duro's bed in retaliation for his judgment, Agron wiping his cock off on the bedspread in a long streak. When Nasir gets home, there are three bouquets of flowers from Caesar on his doorstep. Nasir throws all of them away.

Somewhere along the lines, they stop kissing each other, instead biting roughly at each other's lips if they even bother. It hurts too much to be intimate like that, sharing breaths and moans between. Agron keeps wet wipes in his truck for all the times they sneak a fuck in while Nasir is on break from Ludus, refusing to come in him, instead jerking off across Nasir's back or the seats. Nasir scratches at his back but won't break the skin on purpose, hiding his cries of “Daddy” by fraying his bottom lip between his teeth.

The sex is still perfect, both of them finding pleasure and ecstasy against one another, but there is a factor missing. A forgotten or ignored rule. They avoid eye contact, stop teasing as much, their foreplay is rough and biting, trying to evoke the biggest reaction they can from one another. It's never slow anymore, no longer pulling sweet and suffering pleasure from one another, but making it fast and hard as possible.

It makes both of them wonder if what they had – have – is truly dying or not. But then Agron will brush a piece of Nasir's hair behind his ear or Nasir will nuzzle his face into Agron's shoulder, and all of it will come flooding back. Both too addicted to stop but it hurts so much it feels like they're dying.

 

\- - -

 

The March weather is fickle, shifting from biting cold in the morning to fairly warm in the afternoons. It's not ideal, but Agron powers through it, running through the streets of Brooklyn, headphones blaring. He's gained a lot of weight in the past three months, bulking up to now trim back, cutting sharp lines with definition. It's something to focus on, put all of his effort into in the times when his mind wants to wander onto other things.

He's just reached an intersection, stopping for the traffic, when something catches him out of the corner of his eye. He's paused by a jewelry store, a set of three emerald bracelets on display in the window. They're thin, jewels separated by tiny sparkling diamonds and curled silver. It draws Agron closer until he's pressing his fingertips to the glass.

He knows he shouldn't, could just keep going, sprint through traffic if he has to to get away from the display. Yet, all he can think about is how pretty this would be against Nasir's skin, how much he wold like it, tracing the jewels with a fingertip, grinning when it glints in the light.

Agron doesn't curse his luck. He doesn't resign himself to it. He just pulls his earbuds from his ears and walks into the store, already pulling his wallet from his shorts. He doesn't care what the cost, though this new addiction is cutting severely into his bank account. He'll just buy them and add it to the drawer in his room – the one filled with the multiple other things that Agron has bought that remind him of Nasir. He'll never give them to Nasir, of course not, but sometimes pulls them out and thinks – remembers previous times.

The bracelet he gave Nasir for Christmas is the most valuable and the most important. It's part of a set, the matching piece being the engagement ring still hidden in Agron's room. He never had the nerve to give it back to his grandmother, a sick part of him still hoping that somehow Nasir would change his mind, that everything would be fixed.

It's a dying hope, yet it still flickers in Agron's mind, when they're lying next to one another and Nasir's fingers somehow find his, Agron allows himself to believe, even for just a moment, that this is all some sort of mistake, a plot he doesn't know about. He just doesn't understand why.

 

\- - -

 

Auctus can smell the weed as soon as he gets to the third floor landing. It only grows stronger as he goes, nearly hovering outside of Nasir and Pietros' door. He knocks, but after waiting for a good ten minutes, jiggles the doorknob hard enough that the lock slips out. He keeps telling them they really need to get it fixed, but they claim their landlord refuses. Auctus pretty much has decided it's due to laziness.

Nasir and Pietros are laid head to head on the floor, legs sprawled in opposite directions. Smoke billows from Nasir's puckered mouth, tiny rings that drift slowly to the ceiling. Auctus can see where they spilt wine on the carpet, a half empty glass next to Pietros' limp fingers.

“His cock though,” Nasir murmurs, taking another hit from the joint, “You ever had sex with someone and it feels like you're melting when they're inside you? Like all the way to the back of your throat, just so full.”

Pietros giggles, reaching above him to take the rolled paper from Nasir's hand, “Sounds like a religious experience.”

“You have no idea. He's so amazing,” Nasir sighs, “And the shit we have tried. I let him fist me, Pietros, have you seen how big his hands are?”

“Oh my god. You tried fisting? Was it good?” Pietros asks, tilting his head and exhaling.

“I cried,” Nasir murmurs, scratching absently at his bare stomach, “I fucking bawled when I came. I felt like I was fucking dying but it was so good. Agron is so good though, always makes sure I'm okay after. Cleans me up. Cuddles with me.”

“You're so lucky. Barca isn't into assplay. He won't even eat me out,” Pietros sighs, “Really good at fingering though.”

“Uh,” Auctus steps further into the room, distracting both of them, “Hey guys.”

“Auctus!” Both Pietros and Nasir chime, twin grins stretching across their face.

“I came over to check on you and this is what I find?” Auctus asks, squatting down to pull the glass of wine from Pietros, moving to set it on the coffee table.

“I need to pee,” Pietros mutters, rolling onto his stomach and then his hands and knees, crawling towards the bathroom.

“Are you as gone as him?” Auctus asks, hovering over Nasir.

He squints a little, not sure why he's seeing Auctus upside before, before letting out a loud peal of laughter. Nasir tries to roll over too, get his bearings, but he only manages to twist his foot a little, tilting it outwards. His face is blotchy, red high on his collarbones and fading into a pink on his chest and stomach, eyes veined in crimson.

“I take that as a yes,” Auctus shakes his head, reaching out to brush Nasir's bangs off his forehead.

“I'm glad you're here Auctus. Always here,” Nasir murmurs, reaching slow and numb fingers up to gently touch Auctus' chin, “I'm sorry I almost stabbed you with scissors.”

“It's okay. Come on, let me get you into bed.”

Auctus grips under Nasir's shoulders and his knees, using his own to lift Nasir into his arm like a bride. He's not really surprised that Nasir is so light, he's compact sure, but it's not like Nasir is rippling full of muscles or chubby at all. He's thankfully started eating again, though Auctus figures that was Agron's surreptitious doing.

Nasir makes a little moan, rubbing at his eyes, before relaxing into Auctus' arms, eyes fluttering. He moves his fingers along Auctus jaw when they enter his bedroom, humming softly to himself. Nasir is still smiling goofy, but there is something somber about him, His eyebrows furrow when Auctus sets him down on the red comforter, hooking a hand behind Auctus' neck.

“You have pretty eyes,” Nasir murmurs, fingers vice like on the tendons of Auctus' neck. “Perfect face.”

“Thank you,” Auctus doesn't want to hurt him by yanking away, hovering over Nasir still. He's beginning to think that Nasir is further gone that he first thought though.

“So big and strong. Your skin and your back and your voice. Fuck, I can't get enough of you,” Nasir's fingers trail up, entangling in Auctus' hair, and before he can really respond to the caress, Nasir is pulling Auctus down.

His lips are hot, dry from the weed, but soft against Auctus'. He doesn't slow down, but pushes his tongue needy and wet to the seam of Auctus', moaning when in surprise, Auctus opens his mouth. He tastes just like Auctus was expecting but also how he wasn't, pot and wine and something a little more spicy – cinnamon gum maybe? Nasir drags his teeth along Auctus' bottom lip when he pulls back, canines hinting at just too sharp.

Falling back to the pillows, Nasir rubs at his lips with his fingers for a moment, blinking slowly up at Auctus. He looks confused, almost taken aback by his actions.

“You're not Agron.” Nasir tilts his head a little, squeezing his blurry eyes shut before opening them.

“No,” Auctus shakes his head, relaxing a little at the confession. “I'm not.”

“Where is Agron?” Nasir looks around, bottom lip quivering.

“He's not here. You guys broke up, remember?” Auctus murmurs, brushing Nasir's hair back from his face.

“Oh yeah,” Nasir's eyes leak a few stray tears, “I forgot about Caesar.”

“Nasir,” Auctus stays close, kneeling beside the bed, “What did Caesar do to you?”

He'll feel bad about getting information out of Nasir while he's intoxicated later. It's a question that has been bugging him for months. Why would Nasir, who was so obviously in love with Agron it was nearly disgusting, just suddenly break up with him? What kind of threat or secret did Caesar say that would make Nasir break it off so suddenly, and keep up with it for months now? Auctus knows they've been fucking in secret, but he's afraid that their relationship is already over and forgotten and he needs to know why.

“He,” Nasir's words are half muffled as he rolls on his side towards Auctus, wiping at his eyes, “He is going to get Agron in trouble, send him away to jail, if I didn't break up with him. Don't want him in prison. Don't want him to be someone else's Daddy.”

“Charges? Charges for what?” Auctus asks, steadying Nasir with a firm hand on his shoulder. He's barely making any sense, confused and stuttering over words.

“I don't want to say. Not supposed to say,” Nasir shakes his head, more tears gathering along his eyelashes, “I just miss him so much. Why isn't he here?”

“Nasir, tell me what happened,” Auctus is probably being to coercive, but if he can help this, he wants to. They both deserve better.

“He beat himself up, broke ribs,” Nasir whimpers, “Was going to say Agron did it. And if I tell Agron, he would get angry. Agron would be so mad and hurt Caesar for real.”

“But we can have an alibi for him, and he's not going to get sent to jail for assault,” Auctus shakes his head, trying to soothe him, but it only results in making Nasir more upset.

“You don't understand. Caesar is so good at his job, so so so good. He can make it be,” Nasir sniffles, snot pooling on his upper lip. Auctus finds tissues next to his bed, helping him wipe it off. “Be that Agron tried to kill him.”

“Is that what he said? He was going to try him for attempt of murder?” Auctus asks, trying to get the clear story.

“Agron would never be a fire fighter anymore.” Nasir rubs at his cheeks with his hands, “People would hate him, be scared. Agron is kinda rough but he wouldn't kill anybody, right? He'd hate me. I don't want Agron to hate me. I love him so much.”

Auctus frowns, still brushing his fingers through Nasir's hair while he cries. He had no idea. No one had any idea that this was what was suffocating Nasir. If he had just told someone, then this whole thing could have been avoided, but no, Nasir thinks he can shoulder the whole weight of the world, and yet in the end, he ended up just hurting himself and Agron more.

“I am gonna marry Caesar. He wants me to be his precious little husband,” Nasir's face twists in disgust, “He's going to hurt me but it's okay because Agron will be safe.”

“It's okay. Hush,” Auctus leans forward, gently kissing Nasir's temple. “No one is going to hurt you.”

“I love him, Auctus. I'm so fucking in love with him. And I never told him. I should have told him.”

It's a while, at least a half an hour, before Nasir's breaths even out. Auctus covers him with a blanket, makes sure he is warm and safe, before checking in on Pietros. He's asleep on his bed too, wedding magazines spread about him. Knowing that both men are safe, Auctus sneaks out of the apartment, feeling more confused and conflicted than ever.

 

\- - -

 

“Who else lives here?” Spartacus asks the old woman again, visor tipped up on his helmet. It's another apartment building, forty spaces with not nearly enough people accounted for.

“I don't know,” the lady shrugs, pulling her bathrobe around her tighter.

“Spartacus!” Agron jogs up. His face is covered in soot, sweat streaking it into his hair. He's got his helmet on but the strap is undone.

“What?” Spartacus turns from the landlady, eyes cutting.

“We need to turn the hoses on or it's going to spread,” Agron has to shout to get over the sirens.

“Okay, hold on.” Spartacus turns back to the old woman. He knows she's lying. She would know who lives in her fucking building. “Who else is inside?”

“I don't know. Some brown boy on the third floor? Don't worry about him. He's a little fuck anyways,” the woman snarks, glaring up at Spartacus.

“What apartment?” Spartacus ignores her continued racist remarks, instead trying to get the information he needs. Agron shifts closer beside him, leaning in.

“Third floor – maybe three thirteen? Some fucking runaway. Covered in ink,” the lady rolls her eyes, “Looks like some degenerate. And the men! Parading around like the town whore. Brown little slut.”

“Agron,” Spartacus turns, feeling the other man pull away, backing quickly towards the building, “Agron wait!”

“I'm not leaving him to die!” Agron shouts, yanking the visor down on his helmet and bursting through the front door.

“Fuck!” Spartacus cries, following quickly, yelling into his headset, “Start the hoses! Agron and I are heading to the third floor. Crixus keep up the headcount!”

Flames dance along the walls as Agron takes the stairs two at a time, skidding around the third floor landing. He doesn't have his helmet on correctly, so smoke billows under it, choking him, but he won't slow down. He needs to find this man, needs to save him. He won't let anyone else die or get hurt because of him.

And fuck, he hates Brooklyn apartment buildings. They're always so old and falling apart, the second a match is placed to the wood, they collapse in on themselves. Already half of the second floor is on the first, a shower of sparks hitting the exposed section of Agron's neck where he didn't pull his coat up.

“Agron,” Spartacus shouts into his headset, finally catching up to him, “What the fuck are you doing? You're disobeying a direct order.”

“I'm not going to let someone die, Spartacus,” Agron bites back, desperately searching down the hallway for the correct door. “That's part of our fucking job.”

“We don't even know if he's inside,” Spartacus tries to reason, just as Agron's thick booted foot collides with a door, splintering it half. Agron pushes through and into the apartment, opening door and knocking over furniture.

“She said he was here. He's here,” Agron's voice begins to break as the smoke chokes him, cracking it. “I need to save him. I need to know he's safe.”

Spartacus gazes at his second in command over a smoking couch, watching as Agron coughs and then throws a coffee table against the wall. He looks half crazed through his helmet, eyes roving the place, smashing furniture to look under it, heading towards the bedrooms. It's clear what Agron is doing, who is he looking for, and it pulls a thick feeling down on Spartacus' chest – the pain in Agron's frantic voice.

He hasn't been himself since the break up, so much more prone to thoughtless violence, recklessness melting into all aspects of his life. Agron has been drinking more now too, nearly always having a beer in hand. Spartacus feels like he lost two best friends at once – the calm and the storm. Nasir has become a mess and Agron has become, well, this.

“Spartacus, we have everyone accounted for. The boy just showed up. He was at work,” Crixus barks through the headset and it throws Spartacus out of his musing.

“Agron. He's not here,” Spartacus calls, knowing everyone can hear them, “We need to get outside.”

“No! He's here! He has to be, I need to,” Agron still is shouting, shaking his head.

“Get a hold of yourself! He's not here! Nasir isn't here, Agron!” Spartacus nearly screams, moving across the living room.

“He's here. I have to-” Agron slumps against the wall for a moment, choking.

Pulling Agron's arm up and over his shoulder, Spartacus begins to lead them to the stairs, only to have the doorway collapse. They're trapped in the apartment, only chance of escape being the big picture windows along the side. Spartacus is forced to lean Agron up against the wall as he breaks the glass, shouting orders for a ladder to be brought up.

Agron isn't light or easy to maneuver, but with the help of Barca and Crixus, they manage to get him down and into an ambulance, an oxygen mask placed firmly over his mouth before the whole building falls apart. Spartacus waits to go to him until the fire is put out, ordering Saxa to stand guard and not let Agron move.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? Are you drunk? What is it?” Saxa nearly screams, tossing her helmet at Agron angrily.

Behind his mask, Agron grimaces and rolls his eyes, but he doesn't reply.

“I know you are so fucking upset about losing Nasir, but I refuse to let you lose your fucking life,” Saxa shouts, getting in Agron's face, gripping his jaw between her hands.

“Do you want to fucking die? You have a godson who loves you. I love you. Duro. Spartacus. Mira. Are you willing to just forget about all of us because some guy?”

Saxa shakes Agron harder, shoving his face away with disgust.

“I'm sorry, alright? I don't know what came over me,” Agron wheezes, pulling the mask down from his face.

“You can't just leave me, leave us. Agron, you're the rock of our family, our clan. You're more than your father or what he's done to you. Please,” Saxa sits down heavily by Agron, wrapping his thin arms around Agron's left one. “we can help you get over this, just tell me how.”

“I don't-” Agron starts, only to stop when Spartacus finally approaches, mouth set in a firm line.

“Two weeks leave. I want you sober. I want you calm. And I want you with your head on fucking straight before you return to my squad,” Spartacus barks, “I don't care if you have to go out and fuck every tiny, dark-skinned boy you see. Get it out of your system. You're a liability -- to yourself and to this fire house.”

“I'm sorry Chief,” Agron croaks, lowering his eyes. He does feel bad.

Kneeling closer, Spartacus speaks directly to Agron, holding his gaze firmly.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to Nasir and neither are you, but you can't move on and be a good friend to him if you die chasing ghosts.”

“I know,” Agron nods, rubbing at his dirty cheek.

“Take the time to get better and then we can move on. I need you here, Agron, but I need you here completely.”

“Alright.” Agron accepts it, knowing he can't argue.

Every time he runs into a building, all he can think about is Nasir. If it was Nasir trapped in the building. If it was Nasir dying, burnt alive. He can't get over it. He can't get over it ever since he pulled Nasir from the fire at Caesar and his apartment. He can still remember the way Nasir had cried against his shoulder, gripping him in tight, thick fingers. How he had helped Nasir shower over, washing the soap from his hair, washing away the sulfur and ash. Nasir's trembling lips when he had kissed him goodnight, holding him tightly.

“Come on, you fuck,” Saxa growls, tugging on Agron's jacket, “Let's get back to the house. I need a shower and you-” Saxa takes a sniff of him, cringing, “you definitely need one too.”

 

\- - -

 

Nasir is on the way back from the grocery store, a bag filled with the fixings for salad and garlic bread, when the black towncar rolls up next to him. It follows him for half a block at least before Nasir notices, slowly taking out one of his earbuds, turning to see if he can catch sight of the driver.

He doesn't have to look for long as the passenger side window rolls down and Asher leans forward across the console.

“Nasir,” he greets with a wide grin, casually motioning to the back, “get in.”

“Fuck off, creep,” Nasir hisses, going to put his earbud back in when Asher clucks his tongue.

“It wasn't a request. Caesar wants to see you.”

“I have to get home,” Nasir raises his hand holding the bag, “Tell your master he can call me like a normal person and I will make time for him in my schedule.”

“You know, it'd be a shame to have something happen to that pretty roommate of yours, Pietros, is it? He seems so happy, so alive, getting ready for his wedding day. I'd hate to have to send Gnaeus to visit him.” Asher responds cooly, a gleeful smirk showing on his face. “He always thought Pietros had such a pretty face, perfect for – what did he say? Sucking cock?”

Nasir feels the cold fear creeping up his back again, twisting his stomach. It's so familiar, instantly associated with everything Caesar. It numbs him out but festers at the same time, forcing all of Nasir's will and desires to become subdued. He has no free will, only Caesar's. Caear is the only one that matters.

Turning quickly, Nasir steps off the curb and gets into the backseat, gently placing his groceries next to him – suddenly the idea of food turns his stomach. He knows Caesar and Asher will hold up to the threat, and the idea of anyone touching Pietros, barely weeks before he is due to get married, throws Nasir off. He can't resist, only give in.

“Good boy,” Asher calls from the front seat, turning the car back into traffic, “Everything is so much simpler when you agree, Nasir.”

“Yeah,” Nasir agrees, staring out the window. The sun is setting, casting brilliant shades of gold and silver across the chrome buildings. Even in a huge group, millions of people live in New York City, and yet Nasir feels completely alone.

_Hey. Got caught up in something. Not sure when I'll be home. I'll make it up to you_

Nasir texts Pietros, trying to keep his racing heart from burning by pushing his palm into it. He gets his reply moments later.

_You better not be caught up with Agron's dick in your mouth. We were supposed to have roommate dinner, wedding planning, and movie night :(_

Nasir sighs deeply, not knowing when he'll be home or what state he'll be when he gets there.

_It's a work thing. I promise I'll make it up to you. Go with the cream suit, you know it looks best on you._

_You always know best ;D Have fun!_

Nasir cringes as he puts his phone away. He wishes he was with Agron, wishes he got distracted by a booty call instead of Asher turning onto Madison, Central Park passing by. This means they're going to Caesar's house on the Upper East Side. It's right across from the Met, and though Nasir loves the place (it is gorgeous) he can't relate it with anything but pain.

“When we get inside, you need to go to your rooms and change. I have laid out proper attire for you,” Asher calls over the sound of traffic, “Also, pull your hair up. You know Caesar hates it down.”

Nasir wants to scream, retaliate, throw the car door open and run every time they slow down for a red light, but he can't. He just can't.

“Alright.”

It's another ten minutes before they pull up, Asher coming around to open Nasir's door. He leads him with a firm hand on Nasir's elbow into the lobby, both of them nodding at the front desk clerk. Nasir can't remember his name, but he knows that Caesar pays him a heavy amount to never report what's going on in his apartment.

The dinging of the elevator passing the floors is like a chiming of his doom. Nasir can't help thinking about the clock in Poe's _Mask of the Red Death_ \- getting closer and closer to the end. He has expects to turn and see the grim reaper reflecting in the gold plating. Asher doesn't release him when they get to the penthouse, as if he's expecting Nasir to run. Where would he go though?

Nasir takes probably longer than necessary to change when he gets into his old room. Usually, when Nasir and Caesar were together, they would stay in the studio in Chelsea or the loft in Brooklyn. This house is reserved for Caesar and whatever he does when he's not at work or with Nasir. He's only been here a few times.

Pulling his coat, hoodie, and tank top off, Nasir dresses in the slacks and button down, smoothing the fabric over his tattooed skin. It's nice, expensive, and yet Nasir would rather be home in a pair of harem pants and Agron's giant hoodie. Pulling his hair back from his face, Nasir fastens it into a loose bun, strands falling down his back, but then tighens it, smooths it back from his face. Caesar hates anything that isn't neat and proper.

When he's done, Asher again leads him down the hall and into the dining room, making sure Nasir is seated, hips close to the table, before bowing out of the room. Nasir only has to wait a few minutes before the door at the other end of the room opens and Caesar walks through.

“Nasir,” he grins, teeth sharp and glinting, “Always a vision.”

Caesar leans down, pressing his lips firmly to Nasir's, gripping the side of his neck. Nasir doesn't breathe him in, doesn't even expand his lungs, just freezes, letting Caesar do what he wants. It's better this way, lets Nasir's mind wander away, pretending that he's okay with this.

“I missed you,” Caesar smiles when he pulls away, moving to open the bottle of wine left to chill by the table, “I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too,” Nasir replies, easing through the lie.

“You know, it's been very hard on me this past year, being without you. I was very hurt when you left me for that – that man.” Caesar chokes on the word, wrinkling his nose, “What's his name again?”

“Agron,” Nasir murmurs, accepting the glass of wine that Caesar passes him.

“Oh yeah,” Caesar nods, “And did you find what you were looking for with him?”

Nasir knows what Caesar is after, affirmation that Nasir has learned his lesson, that he doesn't love Agron or want to be with him. Nasir lets his mind think for just a moment, remember all the happy moments, the laughter and chaste kisses and curling up together. Swallowing it all back, forcing it down and smothering it, Nasir coughs a little.

“No,” he lies and it feels like someone is twisting his chest tightly, “I never loved him.”

“No?” Caesar asks, wanting more and Nasir gives it all he's got, swallowing bile.

“No. I realized I love you more than I'll ever love Agron. You're the only one for me. I was so wrong to leave you. It'll never happen again.”

Nasir has to fight to raise his eyes, staring at Caesar with what he hopes looks like love and devotion. He's not even sure how to emote anymore, feeling stripped raw and hollow. He wonders, bitterly, if this is how it's going to be for the rest of his life? Is this the fate that he's been dealt – being Caesar's prized little toy? Conditioned to love and fuck on command and nothing else.

“I'm so glad sweetheart,” Caesar comes to kneel beside Nasir's chair, holding his hand softly, “That's exactly what I needed to hear.”

“It's true,” Nasir nods, breathing slowly in and out of his nose, trying to hold back his panic of having Caesar this close.

“I want us to be together. I want us to be happy again, like before,” Caesar slowly pulls a small box from his suit jacket.

Nasir stares, eyes growing wider and wider when he opens it to reveal the ring. It's silver, band littered with diamonds coming to frame the giant square cut in the middle. It's gaudy, too flashy for Nasir's more earthy taste, and yet, Nasir knows he'll be wearing this for the rest of his life.

“Nasir, I want you to marry me.” Caesar states, not a question or request, but a demand – one that Nasir can't say no to.

“Yes.”

Nasir wonders if this is what people feel like in court when the judge rules them guilty. Like they hear the slamming of metal bars, feel the weight of their future suddenly crash down on their chest. Nasir doesn't even remember Caesar putting the ring on his finger, doesn't really notice Caesar tipping his head back, tongue halfway down his throat.

Responding from muscle memory and only that, Nasir kisses him back, eyes wide open. He doesn't really let Caesar move him, but he doesn't stop him, when he guides Nasir up and onto the table, pushing him onto his back. He faintly knows that Caesar is unbuttoning his shirt, trailing kisses down his stomach, biting at his ribs, but he can't seem to focus. All his mind seems to linger on is the coldness of the metal around his finger, the flickering chandelier above them.

Then suddenly, as if a switch has been turned, Nasir snaps back to reality as Caesar's teeth dig into the tattoo stretched across his hip – Agron's name in Arabic.

“What is this?” Caesar asks, raising his head, blue eyes glaring up at Nasir.

“It's-” Nasir starts but then Caesar's eyes narrow even further, and Nasir has forgotten that Caesar can read it.

He smacks him hard, and Nasir tastes blood. He's sure it won't bruise, but it smarts up his face, causing his eyes to water.

“Shit!” Pulling back, Nasir tries to roll away, being saved from Caesar's sudden wrath by Asher opening the door.

“Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but they are here.” He nods once, averting his eyes from both men and stepping back outside.

“Fuck, earlier than expected.” Caesar rebuttons his cuff, glaring down at Nasir, “And what do you have to say for yourself? Pulling away from me like that?”

“I'm sorry. I was just caught off guard. I'm just so happy,” Nasir murmurs, leaning forward to kiss Caesar's cheek, desperate fingers holding onto his shoulders. “I didn't mean to make you mad. Please don't get mad. I can cover it up.”

Caesar's eyes narrow for just a moment, calculating, taking in Nasir's desperate expression.

“I know sweetheart, I know. I thought we would have a little time together tonight, but it looks like I've got to work now. Why don't I come by tomorrow evening? Cook me a meal and we can discuss what you're going to take with you.” Caesar stands, helping Nasir up. He doesn't look mad exactly, but there is a gleam to his eyes that hints at something else.

“What I'm taking with me?” Nasir asks faintly, sliding from the table, pulling the shirt closed.

“Of course. You won't need all that junk when you come live with me. I can't have my husband being some dirty little tattoo artist. Who will stay here and take care of me when I get home from working all day long? I want you here, to be protected and looked after, provided for.” Caesar's grin grows, corners turning sharp, “And the last thing you need is to be around such awful influences. A ragtag team of fire fighters? Really? I won't have my husband spending time with those...people.”

Nasir nods once, dropping his head. That's it. That's the signed deal. Caesar had Asher drive all the way across town to retrieve Nasir only to prove that he can – that Caesar is in control. This whole set up, the wine and the ring and the piano music, it was all for Caesar's benefit. He has to prove that he's the only one, and Nasir played into the scene exactly how he should have. He feels Caesar moving towards him, kissing the top of his head.

“First thing in order will be getting all that hair cut off and then we can discuss what else needs to be changed.” Caesar lifts Nasir's jaw with two tight fingers, kissing him soundly.

“Whatever you want, Caesar. I'll do anything,” Nasir murmurs, leaning forward to initiate his own kiss.

 

\- - -

 

Agron barely has the door unlocked before Nasir is shoving it open, squeezing into the gap between Agron's body and the wall. He doesn't really give Agron a chance to react before he's going up on his toes, trailing biting kisses up his neck, tugging on Agron's work out tank. Agron had been in the middle of a rep of chin ups when the knocking had started, and sweat is beaded along his chest, soaked into the fabric. Nasir doesn't even seem to notice, fingertips slipping on his shoulders as he grips onto him.

“Nasir?” Agron asks, gently gripping his shoulders and pushing him back far enough to get the front door closed.

His eyes trail over Nasir slowly, taking him in. He looks strange, not bad, but off. His hair is swept up in a tight bun, no loose strands hanging down to frame his face like usual. Nasir is wearing a charcoal gray shirt, expensive and shiny, and though it compliments him, it's not something he would have thought Nasir would pick for himself – a button missing high on the chest. Agron hasn't ever seen it on him either, and he's pretty sure he's gotten Nasir out of every single article of clothing he owns.

“Nasir, what's wrong?” Agron asks firmer, stooping a little to catch Nasir's eyes. He's not crying, but there is a wide set panic to him that Agron instantly recognizes.

Agron isn't stupid. He's observant, keen on the details, and with Nasir standing here in clothes that don't really fit him or what he would want, and lips bitten raw, Agron can sense what this stems from. This whole get up – from the too long pants to the plain shoes and Nasir's missing earrings – reeks of Caesar.

“Nothing, nothing is wrong. I just wanted to see you,” Nasir lies with a fake grin and Agron can see straight through it, shaking his head.

“Did something happen? Are you okay?” Agron moves his palm up and over Nasir's shoulder, gently gripping the back of his neck in comfort. Nasir instantly deflates, tipping his head back as Agron's fingers massage lightly at the knob of his spine.

“I just wanted to see you,” he murmurs, blinking those huge eyes up at Agron, holding his gaze.

“Nasir-” Agron starts, but Nasir shakes his head, turning to kiss Agron's wrist.

“Please. I just need you.”

And how can Agron say no to that? They've been playing this game for so long - the don't touch too much, don't feel, pretend like every brush of their skin isn't driving them both insane. It's the way that Nasir looks at him, fingers cupping Agron's jaw that gives it away. Nasir doesn't need to be fucked, he needs Agron – he needs his Daddy back and Agron wants it more than anything else – even if he knows the aftermath is going to hurt.

Tilting Nasir's jaw up, Agron moves forward to kiss him, slowly caressing their lips together. It's tentative at first, a teasing hint of tongue against the seam of Nasir's lips, before Agron grows more bold. It's the first time they've kissed in so long, something more than just biting at each other, panting in each other's mouths. He nips at Nasir's top lip, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Their tongues meet between, but it's not long before Agron pushes more, tracing Nasir's teeth with the tip.

“Agron,” Nasir moans, eyes closed when he pulls back to gasp in a breath.

“I'm right here baby boy,” Agron murmurs, trailing his fingertips up Nasir's jaw to his hair. He's careful when he unravels it from the bun, massaging at Nasir's scalp, letting the strands come down and around his face. He loves it when Nasir lets it go natural like this, soft and warm against Agron's hands.

Gripping the hem of his tank top, Nasir pulls the fabric up as far as he can, Agron having to help get it over his head. They toss it towards the living room, too distracted by making out in the entry way to get much further. Agron doesn't mind fucking Nasir up against this wall, they've done it before, but he wants to take his time, pull the pleasure from deep within Nasir, and that's going to take a bed.

Lacing his fingers with Nasir's, Agron leads him further into the apartment, only to get caught up by the couch when Nasir starts unbuttoning his shirt. They both help, Agron pulling at the fabric, distracted by Nasir's mouth while he undoes the small, pearl like buttons. They toss it aside too, Agron instantly going for Nasir's pants next.

Finally, after tripping out of the rest of their clothes, they end up pressed against Agron's bedroom door frame. Nasir grips the wood between two trembling hands, arching back as Agron trails kisses and bites along his neck. He knows this is the last time, the very end, Nasir won't ever be allowed to see Agron after this – kept away like some hidden treasure in Caesar's tower. Yet, he can't say no to this. He wants it all, ever single caress and touch and bite that Agron gives him. Something to remember and dwell on when he feels all alone, captured as Caesar's husband.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your ass?” Agron growls into Nasir's ear, cupping the skin between his two large palms.

“Many times,” Nasir half gasp, half laughs, arching his back into the touch.

Agron massages at it for a moment, feeling the familiar weight and smooth skin, teasing his fingertips between and spreading him, looking down at Nasir's puckered hole. He can barely refrain from kneeling and lapping into it, wanting to bite and suck on the skin. It doesn't matter what Nasir is wearing or not wearing, Agron's eyes are always drawn right to his ass.

Spitting into the palm of his hand, Agron slicks up his cock before nestling it between Nasir's ass cheeks. They're both sweating by now and it helps ease the way, thrusting slowly but surely between the soft globes, gripping Nasir's hips to pull him back from the doorframe. It's a tease more than anything else, friction good, especially when the tip drags along Nasir's hole, making him clench down.

“Fucking hell. Your body,” Agron murmurs, sliding his hands up Nasir's sides, fingers bumping over his ribs, “like a fucking magnet for mine. Need you all the time, baby boy.”

“Daddy,” Nasir whispers, dropping his head until his hair falls around his face in a curtain, “Please. I need you in me.”

“This not enough?” Agron asks, thrusting up roughly. It jiggles the skin, and Agron smacks a hand down, making his skin bounce again. Nasir moans loudly at the spanking, fingers curling even tighter around the wood before him, pushing back. Agron rewards him with another smack to the other side, hisses when he pulls back, watching the skin pinken.

“More.” Nasir moans deep in his chest, yelping when Agron indulges him. He lands three sharp smacks to each side before he has to pull away, knowing if they keep going they're going to end up fucking right here.

Opening the bedroom door, Agron turns a dazed Nasir towards the bed, having to help guide him up and onto the comforter. The moment his knees hits the bed though, Nasir seems to snap back into reality, falling over until he's resting on his back. Agron lingers for just a moment at the foot, watching the way his stomach rises and falls with his breath, fingertips trailing over his hips.

Kneeling up between his ankles, Agron lightly caresses his fingers up Nasir's calves, circling his knees and inching further. He keeps eye contact with the man below him, not wavering even when Nasir gasps as he traces the insides of his soft thighs. He could spend forever like this, watching Nasir's every reaction to his attention, falling apart just by having Agron this close.

Leaning over him, Agron goes to reach for the nightstand when Nasir's fingers suddenly claw at his arm, closing over his wrist loosely.

“No. Please, no condoms. I need to feel you, just you,” Nasir whimpers. They had been a new development in their fucking, something neither of them really knew how it started but both disapproved.

“No baby. I just need the lube to open you up for me,” Agron reassures, kissing Nasir's forehead as he grabs the bottle, showing Nasir as he pours some on his fingers.

The first slides of Agron's finger into him is heaven, and Nasir feels his lungs expand in the first, true breath he's had all day. The pleasure is overwhelming, causing Nasir to moan loudly into their next kiss – half from the thick finger inside of him and half from having Agron here at all. He wants to pull the other man down roughly, tell him to forget about stretching and foreplay and just take him but Nasir needs something else – something only Agron can and knows how to provide.

Scissoring his fingers, Agron trails wet kisses along Nasir's jaw, biting into his neck. He can feel Nasir's cock jerking, leaking against his hip every time Agron's fingertips brush his prostate. It's everything all at once, the smell of him, the taste of him, Nasir's quiet cries and moans against Agron's ear. He wants this to last forever, never leave this bed, never lose this moment. The sex has always been good, even when they were just fucking to be close to one another, but now – this is like going back in time. Agron can feel the emotions swelling in his chest, the love and devotion, and even though it hurts more than anything – Agron would make love to Nasir for the rest of his life if it meant keeping him here.

Nasir pulls his legs up with each new finger that Agron adds, gripping at his ribs. He needs to see his face, stare at Agron when he slides in, fills him up with heat and flesh and the intensity that follows Agron's ever movement. Just wants to watch those electric green eyes, the snarling mouth, memorize it for later when Nasir has to give it up.

With a firm kiss to his mouth, Agron pulls back from Nasir just long enough to grip the base of his cock and line up. He waits until Nasir takes a deep breath, exhaling and meeting his gaze before pushing in the first inch, hovering above him to watch for any signs of discomfort. Nasir moans loudly, legs twitching and cock leaking against his stomach, body practically begging for more. It's a plea that Agron couldn't ignore for anything.

He keeps himself steady, firmly pushing deeper and deeper, Nasir's body stretching and accommodating almost like muscle memory. Still, it feels like ages before Agron finally bottoms out, holding Nasir's legs open for him, staying still. They're breathing in sync, still staring at one another, and Nasir clenches down for just a brief second, almost gauging how thick Agron actually is inside him.

Pressing his hand next to Nasir's face, Agron curls him forward enough that he can reach Nasir's lips, kissing him deeply. Nasir's mouth falls open for him, tongues tangling between and Agron moans meet Nasir's, vibrating between them. So much tension, drawing both of them tightly together, and neither of them have ever felt it so palpable before – the connection between.

“Fuck, you're so perfect, baby boy,” Agron murmurs, resting his forehead against Nasir's, breathing the words into his mouth.

“Agron,” Nasir gasps, fingers grasping at his jaw, trailing over his open lips, “Daddy, need you.”

“Alright baby, anything for you,” Agron swears and it's true, it transcends beyond sex and into every part of Agron's life. “Let me take care of you. I'm always good to you, always know what you need.”

Nasir nods quickly, nibbling on his bottom lip until Agron's thumb frees it, kissing the trembling mouth gently. Staying close, Agron begins his thrusts, drawing out a few inches before pushing back in. It's a slow grind, staying so deep, and Nasir pants against Agron's lips with every movement, mewing high and needy. It's hard to tell where one of them begins and the other ends, Agron's sweat dripping onto Nasir's, precome slicking between them.

Wrapping his free hand around Nasir's hips, Agron doesn't speed up but pushes harder, trying to stay as deep as he possibly can. Every drag of his cock presses tantalizingly to Nasir's prostate, sending shots of scalding pleasure through Nasir's stomach, twisting him closer and closer. He's already dizzy, floating in a the scarlet haze of Agron's intimacy, only grounded by the man's teeth in his neck.

He used to pretend that he didn't know why Agron can do this to him, but Nasir knows – has always known. Agron is the only one that Nasir trusts like this, allows himself to be open with completely. Agron never pushes it too far, lets Nasir lay back and relax into it, cherishing the giving and taking of pleasure from him. Nasir is never afraid, never wanting to turn away. Agron has learned the secret, hidden part of Nasir that wants to be held as precious, breakable, and allowed to soar under the right attentions. It's not a weakness, it's a strength found in trusting Agron to know what and how to do it.

Feeling tears prickle at his eyes, the collaboration of everything that has happened and how much Nasir is feeling all at once, he leans up to kiss Agron, holding his face lovingly between his palms.

“I love you.”

It falls from Nasir's lips before he can catch himself, so natural, words pouring out as Nasir keeps his eyes on Agron's. And though Nasir has been so scared of the consequences before, fearing to even think the words, saying them is like a reprieve, a weight suddenly coming undone in his chest.

“What?” Agron pulls his head back, hips not stopping but slowing, grinding hard and deep inside of Nasir.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Nasir confesses, feeling fresh tears leak from his eyes, overwhelmed by finally just saying what he's feeling.

The grin Agron gives him is almost blinding, dimples deep in the corners of his cheeks. He looks elated, as if this is the best surprise he's ever gotten. He kisses Nasir's forehead firmly, drawing back to stare down at him.

“Say it again.”

Agron's thrusts pick up, curling Nasir's body closer to his own, staying on his forearm so he doesn't miss a single breath gasped through Nasir's parted lips. He wants to hear the sound of those words all over again, feel them forced on Nasir's full lips. He could hear it every day for the rest of his life and it'd never be enough.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Nasir chants it like a prayer, tossing his head back every time Agron's cock hits his prostate. He never thought he would say the words and now that he has, he can't seem to stop. Every single time is like him saying it new, watching Agron's blazing eyes widen, mouth still pulled into a snarled grin.

“I've been in love with you for so long. I've waited and waited,” Agron growls into Nasir's ear, kissing the skin, “I love you too, baby boy.”

Agron keeps thrusting, trailing his fingers down between them to grip Nasir's cock in a tight fist. He's leaking everywhere, slicking the way for Agron to stroke him, twisting around the head just how he knows Nasir likes, loose fingers turning to nails on his shoulders. He keeps kissing Nasir through it, muffling his cries and his own moans when Nasir clenches down on him, purposely closing his body into an even tighter vice.

Nasir locks his ankles around Agron's thick waist, heels digging in. He's so fucking close, frenzied by the throbbing of Agron's cock within in , dragging roughly against his prostate and his firm grip on Nasir's cock. He wonders often if this is how dying feels, held so close on the cusp between ultimate pleasure and pain.

Agron's thrusts begin to slip out of his own control, rutting faster and harder the closer he gets. He's still lapping and biting into Nasir's mouth, sharing panted moans that vibrate between them. His body only reacting to the way that Nasir's is to his, a continuous push and pull. Agron rests his forehead on Nasir's, sweat dripping down his face and mingling with Nasir's, half smeared with kisses and spit and there is not an inch of their bodies that the other hasn't tasted.

Finally, they tip further than they can recover from, a tumbling wave of too much heat and too much pleasure. Nasir comes with a broken sob while Agron growls, body clenching down on Agron's spurting cock inside him. It's so rare for them to come together, but this is more than either one of them ever felt before, as if they've been cored and left gaping yet overfilled. It's so intense, melting them into each other until all can they do is moan and pant against each other's lips. And where does Agron's body start and Nasir's end? Neither of them care to know, Agron caressing Nasir's hair, suspended above him in disbelief. It feels like they're both gutted, connecting higher than their trembling bodies, beyond this moment.

Seed sticks them together when Agron collapses, staying buried deep inside Nasir. He knows he's crushing him, cutting off his supply of air almost completely, and yet neither one of them seem to notice as they share heated kisses, lapping at one another's lips. He would like to stay like this forever, but Agron knows he needs to let Nasir gasp in a full breath. Slowly pulling out, he flops to the side, cradling Nasir against him, letting the smaller man use his arm as a pillow.

Stroking his fingers into Agron's hair, Nasir gently guides his face to the side, pressing a kiss quickly but firmly to Agron's mouth. It's reciprocated instantly, Agron's thumb gliding along Nasir's jaw, tilting his face higher so that Agron can continue pressing slow and firm kisses to Nasir's soft mouth. He teases his tongue up against Nasir's top lip, tasting before slipping it in further.

It's tentative, almost shy, the way Nasir moves back against him. His tongue presses to Agron's before skirting away, sucking on his bottom lip instead. It's strange to Nasir how soft Agron's beard is, course but smooth under his fingertips. It's never harsh when they kiss like this, though Agron has been known to leave large patches of beard burn every time he's been Nasir's thighs.

Dragging his teeth along Nasir's bottom lip, he nips at the top before pulling back, grinning. Agron's mouth is bruised but not nearly as dark as Nasir's, who only makes it worse by rubbing his lips together, half puckering up again as if expecting Agron to come back down.

Agron obliges, taking in a deep breath through his nose the moment they're connected again. The gentle caresses from before are replaced by something deeper, Agron feeling Nasir gasp against his mouth every time their lips part, playfully sucking and nipping on the skin.

They lock eyes when Nasir eases back into the pillows, still stroking Agron's face but no longer having the energy to kiss him. He's so tired from the bone melting orgasm, watching the other man through a sleepy haze. Agron seems to understand, lightly pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of Nasir's mouth before laying back on his side, body curled close to Nasir's.

“Sometimes I don't understand you,” Agron murmurs, unable to control his fingers as they trail down Nasir's side, curling around the Arabic script on his hip. .

“No?” Nasir asks, slipping his fingers through Agron's on his waist.

“You are the only person I've ever met that makes me feel like this,” Agron replies. He's not one to talk about his feelings, lay himself bare like this, but he makes the effort for Nasir. Nasir should know, always know, exactly how Agron feels about him.

“And what do I make you feel?” Nasir hates himself every moment that he lets this go on. He shouldn't have come here. There is an engagement ring hidden in his pant's pocket, a signed treaty of sorts that means this is the last time Nasir will ever be allowed to be with Agron. He's selfish for wanting to make this time last, stretch it out enough to last the rest of Nasir's bitterly dismal future.

“Everything.” Agron answers, guiding their hands up to kiss Nasir's knuckles, noticing that he's wearing the bracelet Agron left for him, “Happiness when you're here with me. Frustrated when you're not. I get jealous of anyone who looks at you, wants you, and yet I know that I have you in ways that no one else ever can. You make me angry when you won't let me protect you but then pride when I realize how much you've grown since we met.”

“Agron,” Nasir murmurs, nuzzling against Agron's large shoulder, “It's not your job to be my protector. Sometimes,” Nasir can't raise his gaze, so he stares at the thick cut of Agron's collarbones instead, “Sometimes I need to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Agron asks, gently raising Nasir's face with his hand, “Protect me from what?”

“From me.” Nasir answers, surprisingly having the strength to meet Agron's gaze.

“I knew what baggage you were bringing to this when I met you. I didn't turn away from you then and I'm not now,” Agron shakes his head, pressing his lips firmly to Nasir's before drawing away, “You are flawed. You have cracks in your foundations. I understand that and I love you anyways. Neither one of us have ideal pasts, we've had to deal with some tough shit, but that doesn't mean that we should pull away from each other.”

Nasir can't think of a way to respond, so he just pulls himself closer. Pressing his body firmly up against Agron's and they're sharing the same breath across the pillow. Nasir can feel Agron's palm on his lower back, warm and a comfort, and he has to close his eyes and relish in it. It's overwhelming, being this close and yet Nasir can't. He just can't look into Agron's eyes anymore, lie his way through this. He said the words and he means them, he loves Agron, but when this is all over, that love is going to put him with Caesar.

“Go to sleep baby,” Agron murmurs, forehead resting on Nasir's.

“I love you.” Nasir whispers in reply, nose brushing Agron's.

“I love you too.”

And inside this bed, no space between them, Nasir allows himself to believe for the last time that this is what he's going to have forever.

 

\- - -

Pulling out his top drawer, Agron pulls the velvet box from where it's hidden. He never had the nerve to return it to his grandmother. It's the only heirloom that Agron has ever wanted. He can hear Auctus and Duro in the kitchen, meaning they must have just got home, and he knows he only has a little time to do this before one of them comes looking for him. Agron can feel it, it's the right time. Nasir finally confessed his feelings and he knows Agron's. Yes they have problems to work though, but they can be together and work on them – solidify their devotion.

He's hovering by the dresser when Nasir comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed and pulling back up his hair. Agron hates it when it's up, always wants to run his fingers through it, but the look on Nasir's face distracts him more than the state of his hair. His eyes are red, pooling with tears as he finishes buttoning up his shirt.

“Nasir, I-” Agron starts, only to have Nasir raise his hand.

“This should have never happened.” His voice is weak, cracking on every word he speaks.

“What?” Agron can feel it again, the plummeting fear, the shock, the pain. It's like Thanksgiving all over again. And no. Fuck this. It can't be happening.

“I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending. We can't ever see each other again.” Nasir still hasn't raised his head, tear drops leaking onto his collar. He goes to wipe them away and Agron catches sight of the bracelet, the matching engagement ring held firmly in his own hand.

“No. You can't fucking do this again. You told me-” Agron bites off, his anger turning quickly to sickening acid in his stomach, “You said you loved me. Nasir, whatever you think is holding you back from this, it doesn't have to be a barrier anymore. We can get through this together. You love me and I love you. That's enough.”

“I don't-” Nasir starts, jumping when Agron slams his hand down on the top of the dresser.

“Don't tell me you don't fucking love me!” Agron shouts, interrupting him. He can hear the clamor in the kitchen cut off as both Duro and Auctus hear him. “You think I'm so fucking stupid but I know you. I know what I saw when you said the words. Why are you doing this?”

“Agron, I'm sorry,” Nasir turns towards the door and Agron starts forward, following him.

“No. You can't do this to me. Not again. Tell me why you're doing this!” Agron can feel angry tears prickling his own eyes. All his plans, his feelings, his hopes and dreams suddenly ripped down from where they stood in Agron's mind.

“I need to go,” Nasir opens the bedroom door, trying to escape across it only to have Agron grip his arm tightly, yanking him back.

“Tell me you don't love me. Look me in the fucking eye and tell me you don't love me.” Agron holds Nasir up on his toes, not hurting him but not letting him escape. He can see Auctus move out of the corner of his eye, ready for the defense.

“Agron please,” Nasir gasps, trying to wiggle away, “You're scaring me.”

“Tell me why then. Tell me why you're doing this to me. Why is it so easy for you to fucking come and go as you fucking please? Do you have any idea what you're doing? How could you say those words to me if you didn't mean it? How can you beg for me to make love to you and then you just throw it all away?” Agron voice cracks across the words, mouth snarling.

“I don't lo-” Nasir starts but then gets choked up, “I can't be with you. I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

“Can't or won't? Tell me. Explain why you think this is just a fucking game. How can you lie to me like this? Haven't I done everything in my power for you?” Agron's voice raises until he feels like he's screaming, voice growing hoarse, throat burning and Nasir still hasn't raised his head, tears falling down his cheeks.

“I love you, why is that not enough?” Agron asks, voice a croak and nothing more.

“Agron,” Duro says softly, tone warning, “Let him go.”

“Not until he fucking tells me.” Agron hisses, lowering Nasir half an inch so his feet are on the ground again.

“I can't.” Nasir murmurs, turning his head away, “I can't do this anymore.”

Nasir's fingers curl around his wrist for a moment, slipping the bracelet loose, before holding it out to Agron. His body can still feel Agron within him, wanting to draw closer to the man but the ring in his pocket won't let him.

“You're lying,” Agron growls, lowering himself down to try and catch Nasir's eye, failing when he turns. “You're always lying to me.”

“I'm not,” Nasir whimpers, finally, finally lifting his eyes to meet Agron's gaze. It wavers but he stays, saying the next words with no emotion. “I never loved you and I never want to see you again.”

Agron releases him instantly, staggering back. His mouth falls open just slightly at the cold tone, no longer recognizing the man in front of him. The bracelet drops to the floor with a loud clunk, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Duro raising his hand to his gaping mouth. It's like some sick twisted sort of reality, the gap between Agron and Nasir, the audience of Auctus and Duro, the silence.

“Get out.” Agron hisses, hands balled into fists at his sides, “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Nasir doesn't need to be told twice, turning and running from the room. He doesn't look at anyone, just slams the door and then he's gone, and suddenly there is a giant hole left in the apartment – like a void where once Agron was sure Nasir was and then he wasn't – filled up by pain and anguish. He wonders if he didn't see this coming all along, but then, Agron had thought things would be different.

“Agron,” Duro murmurs, going to come forward only to have Agron angrily shove him away.

“Fuck off.”

Agron doesn't slam his door. He doesn't even really stomp. He moves into his room like the eye of a storm, calm but tense, the rage and wrath bubbling right on the surface. He doesn't touch the bed or the rumpled sheets, breathing through his nose so he wont' have to smell what just happened here. He wonders how he'll ever get over this, whether the tidal wave of his anger will hit now or later. Will it ever stop rumbling along his ribs?

“You okay?” Auctus gently wraps his fingers along Duro's shoulder, pulling him back. He feels guilty, knowing that he knows what caused all this. He knows why Nasir is doing it and it's not fair – really to either one of them.

“Yeah. I've just never seen him like this,” Duro murmurs, aware of how bad this is if Agron is quiet. It's the warning sign before the force of Agron's true rage. It's going to come spilling out soon, and though Duro knows this, he doesn't want to be around when it happens. He's about to motion to Auctus that they should head out, when the other man suddenly strides across the room.

“Auctus!” Duro hisses but he just shakes his head.

“I've got to to do this.”

Auctus knocks lightly on Agron's door frame, watching as the other man slowly puts down the little velvet box. "Agron, I'm sorry to bother you."

"What do you want?" Agron asks gruffly, not raising his head.

"I have something to tell you. Something you should know." Auctus rubs at the back of his neck, imagining all the horrible ways this could go wrong. Coupled with the already burning power behind Agron's eyes, he's pretty sure that Duro and him aren't going to be able to stop him if Agron decides to act on this.

"What is it?" Agron's lack of interest shows in the words.

Taking a deep breath, Auctus says the words that seals all of their fates.

"I know why Nasir broke up with you. I know the real reason."

**Author's Note:**

> join crazzzedope and i on December 8th at 7pm NYC time for a nagron group chat/faux Christmas party. 
> 
>  
> 
> [You're Invited!](http://venomedveins.tumblr.com/post/103173345964)


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